


A Portrait of the Artist with a Young Man

by fencer_x



Category: Sekai-ichi Hatsukoi
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Missionary Position
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 67,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencer_x/pseuds/fencer_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[semi-AU] Veteran shoujo manga editor Kisa Shouta's assigned to help newbie mangaka Yukina Kou launch his career as he debuts in <i>Emerald</i>, but the assignment--and Yukina's enthusiasm and infectious personality--may be more than he can handle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally dipping my toe into the 'Erotica' pool--the only way I know how: with a semi-AU!

You'd have thought that, in all his years working with Emerald (not to mention his time before then interning, with under-the-table jobs that helped pay the bills a mere phone call away from favors owed), Kisa Shouta would have learned that the shoujo manga industry was one of change, that what was hot now, what was splashed across this issue's cover, could very well be relegated to the back of the volume two months hence, or assigned a hiatus to make way for fresh blood. If it wasn't selling, it wasn't being serialized, and if it wasn't being serialized…well, then that was everything fucked, wasn't it?

" _Excuse_ me?"

So you can perhaps understand why Kisa was less than thrilled to receive the back-to-back news that not only had Morimoto Kana's current project been shelved for the foreseeable future (who was going to get to deliver _that_ cheerful announcement? It sure as hell had better not be him), but he was being shifted to take on a new author.

He didn't have _time_ to babysit an author who couldn't tell her HB from a finger up her nose--was what he wanted to say. Ricchan was the newbie; and newbies should stick together--he wanted to complain. Morimoto Kana was a shoujo manga _goddess_ and dropping her was a fucking mis--

"Maternity leave, supposedly," Takano-san muttered, attention clearly divided between Kisa's gaping expression and reviewing the proposal he'd asked Hatori to draw up. He frowned and scratched out a note in the margin, sighing loudly as he did so. "Whatever; it's perfect timing for us, at least. If it had to happen, may as well be now." He added a few choice comments about the _Japun_ people having it easier, what with their author roster being completely male ("If any of them were to get knocked up, that'd be a whole different issue, I imagine."), then tapped the stack of papers loudly on his desk, shaking his pen in Kisa's face. "We need someone to fill her slot in the March issue, though--and you're the only one without a full workload now."

Kisa made a sound, halfway between a whine and a grunt. "But--can't we just use some of the filler--"

"Fuck no, not when there's new blood waiting in the wings." He snatched up a manilla folder and shoved it to Kisa's chest. "Check out his stuff; I only glanced through, enough to see his art wasn't shit, but I didn't have time to review his story. If it's good enough for at least a three-issue run, we'll put him through. If not--" He jerked a thumb to a pile of similar folders. "There's always more where he came from."

Kisa frowned, weighing the folder in his hands; he had absolutely no desire to take on a new author, especially one so green. What if this was his _first_ work? Had he even been published before? Did he know the first thing about writing for a magazine? This wasn't just slapping a five-minute doodle up on pixiv, this was _serious_ business and Kisa had no intention of--"Wait, _he_?"

* * *

Kisa sighed loudly, tipping his chair back, in very real danger of flipping over and falling on his ass, as he lazily flipped through the repertoire of work he'd been handed. _Yukina Kou, age 21, Hokkaido born and raised_ (great, a country bumpkin--Sapporo or no, Hokkaido was practically another country); what the hell was this guy doing drawing…Kisa delicately removed one of the sketches from the folder, holding it out at arm's length and making a face. It could've just as easily been a piece of Yoshikawa Chiharu's, and that was saying something.

Yoshikawa…yeah, why wasn't _Hatori_ taking on this project? There was a guy who knew all the hoops one had to leap through when handling a male shoujo mangaka. Because--surely there had to be some protocol you followed, right? Chicks were one thing; you smiled and patted them on the back when they turned their panels in on time, you gave them a talking to or a lecture if needed when they dragged their feet, but it was always the same story: girls knew what other girls wanted, and you could pretty much be guaranteed a smooth editing process when the likes of Morimoto Kana or Ichinose Erika were at the helm. 

Yoshikawa being an exception, what the hell was Takano-san thinking asking Kisa to risk his neck with a _guy_? Even if he _was_ a fair artist.

…Which was a lie. He was _more_ than fair; he was pretty damn good, even. He didn't like tones--or maybe didn't know how to properly apply them well--and instead seemed to rely heavily on shading by hand. Kisa would need to beat that out of him; it was too time-consuming. But his lines were crisp and clear, his proportions exquisite, and the expressions he drew out of his characters fresh, new, exciting even--a story etched on their features without a single bubble of text.

The plot itself…was mediocre. Not the worst they'd ever run under the _Emerald_ label, but far from the best. Still, for a three-month run filling in temporarily…it might fly.

Kisa cocked his head, leafing through some of his background sketches, a few life drawings--even what looked almost like a self-portrait. Yeah, if he put his mind to it--and with Kisa guiding him--the guy might be able to pull off something half-decent.

At the very least, they could offer him a short-term contract and then pawn him off as an assistant to a bigger moneymaker. 

"Maybe he'll be that hit I've been waiting for…" he murmured ruefully, shaking his head in wry amusement at himself. "Or maybe I'm better off hoping Takano-san kicks the bucket and bequeaths Ichinose-sensei to me..."

With a soft huff, he snapped the folder shut and slid it into his bag, leaving out the top-most page with Yukina-san's--Yukina- _sensei's_ \--contact information. "No offense," he muttered to himself as he keyed in the man's cell phone number, "But you're _so_ not the kind of guy I want to be stuck talking to on a Friday evening, Yukina-sensei…"

* * *

Whatever kind of person he might have expected Yukina-san to be, it was safe to say the real thing was _nothing_ like Kisa could have been prepared to interact with. Shoujo manga authors tended to be shy, demure sorts--at least _his_ authors had all been as such; Ichinose Erika was a rare sort who seemed to have taken after Takano-san during their years working together, and by this point there was no telling _what_ Mino's charges had initially been like before working under him for any length of time.

Still, if Kisa had been hoping for a smooth, calm partnership with Yukina-san, he was quickly disillusioned at the first excited cry of, "Kisa-san!" echoing across the room.

His 'date' for the evening had secured a booth in the corner of the cafe; the shadows were growing long outside in the late-winter evening, and while it was still fairly early yet, the sun was quickly making its way behind the Tokyo skyline, settling into the west and blanketing the streets in soft purple hues. At Kisa's entrance--and being inexplicably recognized--every eye in the admittedly rather empty cafe turned to him, prompting murmured conversations and soft snickers, and Kisa quickly ducked his head and darted across to slide in opposite the man.

Years prowling bars (claiming to be half his age, albeit) had honed his ability to size up a potential partner with a moment's glance--but such skills were proving rather unnecessary this evening, as Kisa found himself outright _gawking_ at the specimen set before him.

Gaudy and flashy (in presence, if not in clothing), he gave off an aura of opulence--not _richness_ , per se, but…unavailability, a pedestal-perching prince of a man who radiated what must have been a _royal air_ if Kisa had ever seen such. Tall and slender with a shock of blond hair and--were those _three_ earrings? The headshot that had been included with his resume and repertoire had _severely_ underplayed the guy's looks, and Kisa was having difficulty discerning if this was a good thing…or a bad thing, just at the moment.

It was hard to tell how long he'd openly gaped, but when he came back to himself what felt like ages later, his mouth was dry and his voice raspy as he struggled to respond to Yukina-san's concerned queries. "Ah--sorry, good evening."

"Good evening," Yukina-san responded, practically chirping the greeting, and he held out a hand to gesture to the menu sitting at the head of the table. "I apologize; I took the liberty of ordering a coffee for myself already. Please feel free…" Kisa would have turned down the offer--he had a half-full pet bottle in his bag--but something in the way the guy delivered the invitation just made him want to give in, and before his better angels could properly reassert themselves, he was waving over the waitress and ordering a smoothie. "You like sweets, Kisa-san?"

"Eh? Ah, I guess--" He cut himself off, slapping one hand on the table. "Wait--how the hell did you know who I was?"

Yukina-san just shrugged, carefully stirring his coffee; Kisa idly wondered how long he'd been waiting (he hadn't been late, had he?) given that no tendrils of steam crept out of the mug to cross the table. "You looked…like a 'Kisa'-san."

"Huh?" But he was saved from any further cryptic explanations by the arrival of his fruit smoothie, and he simply settled for frowning with a short huff of acceptance. Using the straw to stir the thick slush with one hand, he rifled around in his bag with the other, palming a small metal case which he popped open and deftly drawing out a single business card to pass across the table. The guy didn't seem one for formality, and just now Kisa wasn't too very concerned with making a good impression. "Well, I suppose you know who I am then, but just to be proper about it."

Yukina-san took the proffered card with both hands, treating the cardstock as delicately as porcelain as he mouthed the writing to himself, seemingly committing it to memory. After a moment, he glanced up, beaming. "Thank you, Kisa-san!" His face immediately fell, though. "Ah--I'm sorry, I don't have my own to…"

Kisa waved him off, sipping his smoothie. "I've already got your info from the resume; I assume it's still up-to-date, yeah?" Yukina-san nodded. "Then…I guess we can just make this a 'getting to know the business' meeting, if you're comfortable with that, Yukina-san?"

The man's eyes widened, and he covered his mouth. "Oh--no, no! You don't need to use an honorific with--" he sputtered, clearly mortified. "I mean, I'm going to be working with you, and even if we're the same age--" Kisa flinched, "--I'm sure we needn't be so formal. Ah, but--still, I probably should call you Kisa-san, I think. There's just no need for--"

"All right, all right, geez," Kisa interrupted his nigh unintelligible babble, worried he was going to have to reach over and clap a hand to the guy's mouth, physically impeding the procession of excuses. "Fine, I get it--you don't want a '-san'. You only needed to say so." He shook his head and rolled his eyes subtly; this guy was going to be a piece of work, and he clearly came with a few headaches to boot.

Over the next two hours, Kisa clearly outlined the workflow they followed at _Emerald_ , relieved when Yukina pulled out a pocket calendar and started frantically scribbling notes on the days Kisa noted as important. "This is the release date--we're a monthly rag, you know." He tapped a finger to indicate the Wednesday at the end of the next month. "And this is the absolute _final_ deadline for getting manuscripts to the printers." He shook a finger in Yukina's face, desperate to nip things in the bud, should the guy prove to be a problem author. "Your manuscript isn't in their hands by 5 PM, and it isn't getting printed in that month's issue. End of story."

Yukina didn't seem put off by the vague threat, though, nodding firmly and scribbling Kisa's comments--word for word--in the margins of his scheduler. "I don't foresee any problems; I'm sure we'll have an excellent relationship!"

A lance of pain shot through Kisa's head; the guy's enthusiasm was grating at times, and he wondered at the back of his mind how long it would take for him to become as jaded as the rest of them. He seemed to have get-up-and-go to spare, so perhaps he could last the entire three-month contract on spunk alone--which meant Kisa was in for a rather interesting quarter coming up. 

"Y-yeah…" he allowed, shuffling his papers. "Well--if you don't have any more questions right now…?" Yukina didn't seem to hear him, reviewing the notes he'd scribbled and the schedule he'd drawn up for himself. "…Right, then I guess I'll contact you again early next week? To review your storyboard and make sure things are going smoothly?"

At this, Yukina perked up. "Absolutely! Ah--" He rifled around in the bag at his side, and Kisa peered over curiously, raising a brow when he finally fished out a little flip-phone. "Let's exchange cell phone information! In case we need to contact each other quickly."

Kisa frowned, nodding to the card which still held a place of honor just at Yukina's elbow. "But I've already got your number, and all my information's on the card--"

But Yukina was already shaking his head insistently. "If we're going to be working together, we should culture a deeper understanding than simply cardstock and printouts! Infrared transmission really is the heart of a healthy relationship, don't you think?"

_'This guy's insane…'_ With a deep sigh, Kisa fished out his own phone, flipping it open and scrolling through menus to find the appropriate application. "It's been ages since I did this… You wanna send first?"

After a few false-starts, they finally managed to align their phones and exchange the relevant information, and Kisa couldn't help the amused grin tugging at his lips when he saw the picture that came attached to Yukina's data: a closeup with a false mustache painted across his lips. "You sure you shouldn't attach something a little more _professional_?" he chided, flipping the screen around as evidence. "You're a contributing author for a first-rate manga magazine now, you know."

Yukina shrugged but had the good graces to at least look a bit abashed. "This is my first real job in the market; I didn't give it much thought, and I didn't think Kisa-san would mind…"

Sensing he'd struck a nerve and slightly unsettled by the sight of the guy seeming almost depressed, Kisa quickly amended his earlier complaint. "Ah--no, sure, it's fine. Just--in the future. If you're gonna do that kind of thing, maybe have a more…normal-looking shot in your memory somewhere?" He snapped his phone shut and quickly pocketed it, adding, "Or better yet, order yourself some proper business cards. I'm one thing, but when you're meeting with the higher-ups or negotiating a drama CD or anime production contract, then--"

Yukina slapped both hands on the table, startling the other customers. "Y--you seriously think I can get my work turned into an _anime_ serialization?!"

Kisa flinched, holding his hands up to calm the atmosphere. "Hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves here. We'll try three months…and then see where we go from there, okay?" He raised his brows hopefully, relief spreading through him when Yukina's face flushed with pride and he nodded sharply.

"I won't let you down, Kisa-san!"

"Eh…" This guy could be all over the place. "Well, I mean, I'm not the person you have to impress--"

"That's not true!" he protested. "After all, you're the person who decides if my work's good enough to get published, right?" Kisa allowed a nod. "So your opinion's very important then! You're the first person who gets to see my work and review it…" He trailed off and settled back against the seat, pushing his empty coffee mug back and forth between his hands, letting it slide across the table. "It's silly…but I'm very excited to have this opportunity!"

Kisa pulled away, hastily packing his bag; the meeting had ceased to be useful to either of them five minutes back. "Well--ah, sure. I look forward to working with you." The words came out of his mouth in a monotone repetition, delivered purely for propriety's sake. "I'll call you. Later. About next week."

Yukina blinked a few times, glancing around the cafe as he realized Kisa was making overtures to depart. He shifted positions to slide out of the booth. "Oh--shall I walk with you to the sta--"

"No--nope, it's fine." He held up a hand to still his advances before sheepishly turning the gesture into a mock salute. "I'm a big boy; I can make it there on my own."

And with that, he practically fled the cafe into the chilly night air, not once looking back until he realized he'd beaten a hasty retreat two blocks in the wrong direction.

This was _definitely_ not how he'd wanted to spend his Friday night.


	2. Chapter 2

Kisa glared at his phone as it buzzed, rattling against the desk noisily and garnering him equally irritated looks from his coworkers. He ducked his head in an apologetic nod and pulled his phone into his lap, surreptitiously checking the message with growing annoyance.

_/Today it's gyuudon for lunch! What about you, Kisa-san?/_

Kisa was used to getting annoyingly frequent texts from overzealous suitors. Nearly every guy he'd been stupid enough to give his contact information to, more interested in keeping them around for the occasional booty call than for exchanging sweet nothings during the week, had eventually proven overly clingy, viewing this allowance as carte blanche to presume a relationship that definitely didn't exist despite Kisa's efforts to remind them at every turn that theirs was a _fling_ , nothing more, and that such tenacious efforts to maintain contact were only going to have the opposite effect.

He was _used_ to telling guys that fucking a few times didn't mean they were married and that he was no more interested in inane details about their lives than he was in hearing about the weather from the creepy old guy who worked at the Family Mart near his apartment. It was presumptuous, it was irritating, and it did little more than make Kisa want to shake a finger at his cock in reprimand and remind it to stop sitting up and begging for more every time someone easy on the eyes got a little too handsy at just the right moment in a bar. A good many of his problems could be solved, he was realizing, if he'd stop letting the head between his legs dictate his decisions.

However, this was one of the rare problems he _couldn't_ blame on his dick.

He waved his phone pathetically in Takano-san's general direction as he pushed his chair out, explaining, "Author's having issues."

Takano-san was in a less-than-forgiving mood, though, it seemed, and loudly slapped a sheaf of papers against his desk as he straightened them. "She doesn't know your extension?"

"It's the newbie--Yukina-sensei. I don't…think he quite knows how these things work yet."

"Then educate him," was the snippy reply, and he shifted in his seat to glance past Kisa. "Oi, Onodera: 10 copies of this. I've got a meeting in 5 minutes." Ritsu squawked his offense from beside Kisa as he slipped out quietly into the hall, quickly bringing up Yukina's contact information with a frown.

The guy was kind of _ridiculous_. He'd exceeded Kisa's expectations in more ways than one from the moment they'd met--both in artistic talent and ability to slip up close and personal far more quickly than Kisa was generally comfortable with. In a bar it was one thing (and someone like Yukina would…generally be _more_ than welcome to do so), but with his work, he actually took some personal pride in how he presented himself, always wary of the fact that, as a relatively older veteran editor, judging eyes fell much more heavily on him than on the likes of Ricchan.

Authors who underestimated their editors, who were allowed to walk all over those who'd been assigned to guide and guard them, were the ones who wound up stuffed in the back pages of the next issue, whose works started a steady nose-dive in quality and who eventually huffed their annoyance and wandered on to their next challenge. He didn't need some guy fresh out of art school (what the hell was an _oils_ major doing in shoujo manga anyways?) getting a big head and thinking a ready smile and bright eyes were all it took to bully Kisa into doing what he wanted. Kisa'd given up a lot to guys for less than that in the past--but Yukina was a mangaka like anyone else on _Emerald_ 's roster, and he was about to learn the hard way why authors were discouraged from getting too friendly with their editors.

Yukina picked up on the fourth ring. _"Kisa-san?"_

Kisa winced; the guy sounded entirely too _happy_ , flushed with excitement to receive a single damn phone call. He took a breath, mustering up the courage to be firm. "Yes, this is Kisa with Marukawa Sho--"

_"Did you get my text message? I received an error when I tried to attach an image of my lunch, so I wasn't sure..."_

Kisa rolled his eyes and dropped his voice, slipping into the doorway of the break room on their floor to be out of the flow of traffic. "Yeah, I got it fine. Listen--"

 _"Oh, good!"_ And then he had the gall to _giggle_ , and Kisa felt ill when his stomach did a little flip in response. _"It was really delicious, actually! If you like, I can give you directions to the--"_

" _Hey_ ," he groused, sharp enough to cut through Yukina's excited tittering, and his fingers went tight clenching around his phone. "I'm at work, you know; this is a _business_ call--"

 _"Oh of course! Of course! Was there something you needed? Ah--I'm sorry."_ His tone changed in an instant, quickly waxing contrite. _"I'm only three-quarters done with the storyboard. But--I can be done this evening, if you wanted to meet up and discuss--?"_

"No! No, geez, just--shut up for five seconds, would you?" If Yukina refused to treat him like an editor, he felt justified in not treating the guy like a client. Coddling him would only backfire, he suspected. He began to massage his temples. "Listen--you can't just…text me every five minutes with stupid pictures of your lunch or whatever, all right? I gave you my information in case you needed to contact me about _manga_. If you've got the time to text your editor about what you had for lunch or breakfast or dinner or an afternoon snack or _whatever_ , maybe think about dedicating that time to your manuscript instead, all right?"

There was a long pause, and Kisa could hear his voice echoing in the empty side room; his tone had escalated towards the end of the rant, and he bit his lip, regretting letting himself get worked up. The guy was _nice_ , sweet even, obviously hard-up for companionship--although Kisa couldn't for the life of him see how someone who looked like _that_ could be hard-up for much of anything--and more than anything, he was _young_. This wasn't Ichinose-sensei, it wasn't even Morimoto-sensei; this was some kid who'd been flattered one too many times by a pretty classmate that _your doodles are so good, Yukina-kun! You should try professional manga!_ and here he was, dropped in Kisa's lap to deal with like some excitable pup who hadn't been properly potty-trained yet. He could hardly be blamed for pissing over everything in an honest effort to please.

He huffed softly, coaching himself to calm down. "I…shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at--"

 _"It's quite all right, Kisa-san,"_ was the remarkably even reply, and Kisa stood up a little straighter, his shoulders relaxing at the almost _normal_ tone Yukina had taken on; he might miss the tittering lilt to the guy's voice at some point in the future, but just now, this was a welcome relief. _"I've inconvenienced you and taken up your time; I'm often told I can get a bit out of hand now and then. An occasional firm word may be needed to keep me in line."_

"…Oh, yeah, no--sure. I…" He licked his lips. The relief was starting to wash away, and Kisa wondered just how often _was_ 'often'--and did that mean Yukina never let himself _go_ around others? Even Kisa made sure to keep tabs on a few bars where he could go and just bitch and moan about work, life, guys--everything that got him down as much as it built him up. "Just…maybe don't text me every time you turn around?"

Soft laughter--but kind of thin and dry. Strained, even, if he were to be honest. _"I'm sure I can rein myself in, Kisa-san. Again, I'm sorry for being such a nuisance, even though you've been so patient with me so far."_ Not entirely true, but Kisa let it go.

And fuck, he didn't know why--but this 180 was really starting to grate in the span of a few short moments, and he muttered into the receiver, "I mean, it's not like I'm saying you can _never_ text me or something…"

 _"Oh, of course; I'll be sure to keep my future correspondences to the business side of things!"_ And Kisa supposed he was supposed to be comfortable with that; Yukina was saying all the right words now, but…somehow he didn't really sound like Yukina anymore. Kisa'd never had to go off on an author like this--mostly because he'd never had an author as _clingy_ and in need of attention as Yukina--but surely he hadn't been _that_ harsh…right?

He pursed his lips; there was a mountain of work on his desk that hadn't been disappearing nearly as fast as he'd wanted it to, mostly because every five minutes his phone was buzzing with a new received text. Wiping a hand over his face, he offered pathetically, "You're more than halfway done with that storyboard, right?"

_"Eh?_

"The storyboard--you mentioned it earlier. You're not done--but you've got most of it ready, yeah? And it's legible?"

_"Oh, well yes--but you don't need to see--"_

"I'll be the judge of that; I don't want you taking too much lead your first round. Don't want it to be a week before the print deadline and you're still piddling around with your rough draft." He glanced at his watch, frowning. "You free tonight?"

_"Oh, I sup--"_

"Come to Marukawa by 7; check in with reception downstairs and have them buzz you up if I'm not waiting. Bring your sketchbook so we can go over what you've got so far." Technically this could wait until the end of the week, so early in the cycle was it, but Yukina wasn't his only author, and setting things straight between them--they were author and editor, not friends--was of higher priority right now than finishing off the last of his milk before it went bad.

In hindsight, he supposed he should have phrased it as a request, or even a question--certainly he would have with any other author (though he highly doubted he'd be taking any other author out for drinks before they'd even finalized their first printing)--but the deed was done, and Yukina's voice in his ear, agreeing unconditionally to the meet-up with a hint of his earlier sparkle was enough to convince Kisa he'd done the right thing.

Whether or not it truly _was_ 'the right thing' remained to be seen. At the very least, he could be assured a pleasant buzz and some decent arm candy in Yukina, which would garner him some credit around the bar, so it didn't seem to be stacking up too poorly either way.

* * *

Kisa chewed on his pen cap, teethmarks evidence of the stress he was routinely battling, and he clamped down to keep the cap from falling to the ground as he leaned forward and scribbled _change the setting to the tennis courts_ in the margin above the top-right panel of the page he was reviewing. He could feel Yukina watching him nervously from across the table where they were seated in the front lobby lounge, and it was more than a bit unnerving; he knew what he was doing was for the author's benefit, that it wasn't anything personal (though all right, perhaps he was being a bit harsher than he might typically be with a green author like Yukina, but the guy had really irritated the crap out of him), but he still felt a little twinge of regret every time he had to scratch out some piece of corny dialogue and scrawl instructions to rework the entire scene because it just wasn't panning out.

He flicked his gaze up, relieved to see Yukina still biting his lip and focusing on the suggestion Kisa had just delivered. He scratched his temple, frowning. "You don't think moving to the courts will be too jarring? They were just in the classroom on the previous page…"

Kisa capped his pen. "Nah; you don't need to dedicate a whole panel just to showing them walking from point A to point B--just leave some lead-in dialogue on the previous page, then at the top here, maybe have a wide-angle shot of the courts with some sound effects, and then you can dive right in to the conversation. Then you've saved yourself a whole page of boring transition." He flipped the page over and placed it primly on top of the pile of finished ones, gently tapping the stack against the table to straighten it before replacing the clip that had been holding them together. Handing the sheaf back to Yukina and shaking it a bit when the guy didn't immediately take it, he added for good measure, "It's not bad, you know. So you can stop looking like a just tore you a new one."

Under the harsh fluorescent lights of the lounge, it was hard to miss the embarrassed flush that pinked Yukina's ears. "I didn't--" he started, then corrected himself, adopting that same stilted tone he'd had earlier. "I mean, I understand it's all for my own good. I hardly expect my work to be of--"

"Geez, stuff it, would you?" Kisa groaned, pushing away from the table and standing, pulling on the light jacket he'd draped over the chair behind him. "I don't get you, you know?"

"Eh?" Yukina stayed put, staring up in confusion.

"This." Kisa waved a hand, working to zip his jacket up with one hand. "All I did was snap at you and you're acting like I bit your head off." His frown softened, brows knitting. "…It wasn't anything personal, you know?" If Yukina understood, he gave no indication, instead settling further in his chair and rearranging his panels back in a ragged sketchbook. Kisa stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I know you're new at this, but I kind of am, too." Yukina's head snapped around, confused, and Kisa shrugged. "I haven't had a newbie author in years. The last one…she kind of flaked out on me. I'm used to my clients knowing what they're doing, not needing me to hold their hands every step of the way." Yukina visibly flinched, and Kisa bit his tongue. "I mean--not that needing some hand-holding is bad or anything, seeing as this is your first piece and all. Just…" He trailed off, running one hand through his hair and sighing roughly. "Whatever. Get your crap together; I need a drink." As he worked to settle his bag across his shoulder, situating it comfortably at his hip, he raised a brow meaningfully when he noticed Yukina not moving. "Well?"

"I…eh?"

With another huff, he reached for Yukina's bag himself and slung it over his free shoulder. "Drinks. You survived your first critique; everyone deserves a little spoonful of sugar to make the medicine go down." He paused, a thought flashing across his face. "Unless…you had some other plans or something?" He didn't figure Yukina would've come all the way down to Marukawa at this hour if he _did_ have plans, but who knew--maybe there was a _Mrs._ Yukina Kou waiting at home with their darling little bundle of joy.

Kisa tried not to shudder visibly at the image, but was jolted from his thoughts by the harsh scrape of chair legs across linoleum. The bag he'd slung across his shoulder was prised from his grip as Yukina relieved him of the burden, slipping it over his own shoulder and bumping the chair back into place under the table. "Of course not; I only supposed that editors weren't supposed to fraternize with--" He cut himself off when Kisa snorted inelegantly, releasing a trail of giggles as he wandered back into the front lobby and waving off Yukina's concern as he traipsed along behind him curiously. "Did I say something strange?"

"Every time you open your mouth," Kisa breathed through a sigh as he shook his head, forcing himself to calm down from the outburst and giving a polite nod to the girls still manning reception. "Fine, if it'll make you feel better: it's after business hours now. You can text me or call me or have drinks with me, whatever your little shoujo mangaka heart desires--until 8 AM tomorrow." He whirled around on one heel, shaking a finger in Yukina's face and realizing only just now how Yukina positively towered over him, a good head taller and in no position to be lectured to. Kisa took a step back to ease the angle he had to force his neck to adopt just to meet the guy's eyeline. "But between 8 AM and 7 PM, I don't want your texts, I don't want to know what you had for lunch, I don't want to get pictures e-mailed to me of a funny cloud you saw in the sky. If you need me for _work_ , my extension's written on my business card, or you can call the front desk and they'll patch you through." He let his finger drop, settling his hands at his hips. "Okay?"

And rather than seeming flattened by the ultimatum, Yukina's shoulders slumped in relief, stress visibly leaving the tense line they'd been set in. "I can work with that."

"Good, cause it's what you're getting," Kisa reminded sharply, but let his lips quirk up on one side, and he spun around and started stomping toward the front doors, which opened before him with a soft _whoosh_ , letting the chilly night air of spring wash over the both of them. "Let's go."

"Where to?"

 _Some place I can show you off,_ Kisa admitted to himself, pulling out his cellphone and pulling up a screen of contacts to see which of his haunts he'd neglected the longest.

* * *

"Well well, look who finally decided to drag his sorry ass back in here. Finally going to pay off your tab?"

Kisa balked when, just as he'd crossed the threshold, he found himself backed up against a wall by a burly man in a dirty wifebeater and an equally dirty apron, one drawn-on brow arched knowingly as he tipped up Kisa's chin to bring their gazes together. He could hear Yukina babbling good-naturedly from the street, mere paces from the entrance and hidden from view by the _noren_ flapping in the evening breeze--if he came in and saw this…

Kisa slumped down against the wall, laughing uneasily as he slipped down and lithely out of the man's grip. "C'mon, Ryuu-san…it hasn't been that long. And you know I'd never stiff you."

Ryuu-san pulled back, massive arms crossed over his equally massive chest. "You'll stiff _anyone_ who looks good enough; that's the problem."

"I've never found it a problem," Kisa responded easily, batting his lashes in a way he knew irritated the bar-owner, and received a raised middle finger in response. He gasped in mock horror just as Yukina ducked under the _noren_ and entered the izakaya properly. "Now that's not very polite, Ryuu-san."

"What's wrong?" Yukina immediately piped up, ducking down to check Kisa's face worriedly, one hand hovering at Kisa's back as if preparing to scoop him up and high-tail it back to the taxi. "Kisa-san?"

"Oh my." And here Ryuu-san took a good step back, both brows shooting up in approval as he surveyed the scene before him. Kisa tried to imagine what it might look like through his friend's eyes; they'd known each other since Kisa had first moved into Tokyo proper, Ryuu-san's izakaya being his then-boyfriend's idea of an ideal date spot. The date had decidedly _not_ gone well (though looking back, Kisa supposed he'd been too big-eyed and open-minded to appreciate that all a date _really_ needed to go 'well' was a decent dinner and a bed with freshly washed sheets), but Ryuu-san had been sympathetic when Kisa had dragged himself back in a few nights later with a mind to get well and thoroughly pissed (no one _dumped_ Kisa Shouta--he did the dumping!), obliging him and making sure he made it safely into a taxi headed back to his apartment and wasn't carted off by one of the several men who'd apparently made passes at him that evening.

It was from the tall, high-backed stools lining Ryuu-san's bar that Kisa had learned to ply his trade, pitching his voice higher when he learned it made the liquor flow more freely from hopeful suitors and trusting Ryuu-san wouldn't judge him too harshly the odd times he wandered in, mood decidedly dour, and just wanted to drink his worries away without engaging in idle chatter. It was as close to a second home as Kisa could ask for, and one of the few refuges where he could more or less be himself, self-confidence issues aside.

Ryuu-san reached out a hand, fingers twitching appreciatively as he made to run a finger along Yukina's arm, as if to determine whether or not the guy was an illusion, and Kisa quickly shot out a hand and wrapped his fingers firmly around Ryuu-san's wrist, throwing him a pointed look. "Long day at work; can we get something to drink, Ryuu-san?"

Ryuu-san returned the look, demand to know all the sordid details of the evening clearly etched on his face, before composing himself and drawing up tall. He wasn't quite Yukina's stature, but what he lacked in height he made up for in sheer bulk, the lip balm and eyeliner clashing with his burly figure and disheveled look. "…You usually take a whiskey sour, don't you, Shouta?"

Kisa flinched at the way Ryuu-san casually used his name, conscious of Yukina tensing beside him. He gently brushed his fingers along Yukina's forearm to keep him calm, tossing back, "Just a couple of beers tonight." He turned the brush to a grip here, tugging Yukina along by the wrist when he failed to follow Kisa immediately as he made his way to the bar proper.

"Ryuu-san's a friend," he clarified, tossing a glance behind him, and found Yukina cautiously surveying the rest of the bar; it was mostly empty, par for the course for a weeknight, with a few lonely sorts nursing their drinks in solitude in the corners. They wouldn't be bothered, and so Yukina clearly had no reason to be so tense. "I come here all the time; he knows me."

Yukina looked like he wanted to ask just how often _all the time_ was, but Ryuu-san cut in here, dropping two tall bottles of Asahi, wet with condensation, on the bar before them as they slipped up into their seats. "'All the time' my ass; I haven't seen you in here since you were…with what's-his-face. The salaryman from Chiba City."

Kisa shot him a look, doing his best to mime that the guy should shut his big trap, and quickly changed the subject. "Well, I've been busy at work is all. With this guy--" He clapped a hand on Yukina's shoulder, setting him sitting straight in his chair with a soft yelp of surprise. "My new _project_."

Ryuu-san nodded approvingly, reaching for a cup from a rack by the sink to dry it. "Little young for you, isn't he?"

Kisa scowled. "We work together."

"Since when has that mattered?"

Yukina's eyes darted between them, clearly not following the conversation. "Kisa-san…?"

" _Kisa-san_ , he says." Ryuu-san snorted incredulously, shaking his head and picking up another glass. "'S he your butler or your co-worker?"

"Neither." Kisa took a long draw on his beer, pushing the other towards Yukina. "Mangaka."

"Eh?" Ryuu-san now glanced back and forth between them. "But--don't you do…?"

A nod, and he gently elbowed Yukina to prompt him for an introduction. "Oh--I'm sorry. Yukina Kou; I'm…umm, Kisa-san is my editor. I'll be publishing my first manga installment in this month's edition of _Emerald_ , so…" He gave a nervous bow of his head, more of a nod, then quickly snatched up the beer he'd been offered and took a swig of it, grimacing.

For his part, Ryuu-san seemed only amused, shaking his head and slinging the towel he'd been using to dry glasses over one shoulder. "The guys you get involved with, Kisa Shouta…" he muttered, then toddled off down to the other end of the bar where a young couple had just slipped in, calling excitedly for drinks.

With his departure, a comfortable silence settled between the two for a few moments, before Yukina awkwardly broached the topic with, "So…you and, umm--Ryuu-san, was it?" A nod. "You're…?"

"Hm?" Kisa swallowed the gulp he'd just taken with some difficulty. "Friends, I suppose? Like I said--I come here all the time, and you seemed kind of down earlier, so I thought you could use a drink." He nodded to the bottle Yukina held in a death grip. "You not a beer guy?"

"Eh? Oh, no, I am--I mean, I'll have an occasional drink." He took a swig, as if to prove himself. "I've just…never been somewhere as…" His brows knit as he searched for an appropriate word, "… _colorful_ as here."

Kisa released a bark of laughter, smiling into his drink. "That's probably the nicest way anyone's ever described this place." His shoulders shook with giggles, and he leaned to the side, supporting his head in one hand. "You definitely stick out here. Like a sore thumb."

"Do I?" He glanced down, seeming to think it was his wardrobe giving him away. He frowned as he tugged on his shirt. "Am I…overdressed or something? I didn't realize we'd be going somewhere casual, so I suppose I--"

"No, no--it's…your whole _look_." He waved a hand, gesturing from head to toe. "You look…" _Too good to be true_ , his mind finished helpfully, and he forced his tongue to return instead, "…well, this just doesn't suit your aura, I guess."

Yukina seemed to grasp his meaning and snorted softly, directing his gaze to the amber glass of his beer bottle as he picked at the peeling label. "You seem quite comfortable here, though, Kisa-san."

Kisa shrugged, turning around fully to place his back to the bar as he blankly took in the few other patrons. "I guess I am. I told you I come here a lot--Ryuu-san's not too stingy about payment, and when there's a decent crowd in here, it's actually a lot of fun. It attracts all sorts."

Yukina turned, and Kisa could feel his gaze on him. "Except my sort?"

His lips quirked up at the sides as he fought a grin. It was far too easy to let himself go in this setting, far too easy to forget he should be professional and maybe not flirt with his client. "Mm, you're kind of a special sort."

"Oh?" Yukina's voice had that sparkling lilt back to it now, but the alcohol lacing his bloodstream was starting to lend a dangerous edge to it that Kisa didn't entirely dislike. "What sort is that?"

Kisa closed his eyes for a moment, then tilted his head back until he was able to catch Yukina's gaze. "Dunno yet." He snapped his head back forward and raised his voice. "Ryuu-san! I want my whiskey sour now!"

* * *

"You sure you don't need to get him a taxi?" Ryuu-san hovered over them as Kisa worked to keep Yukina steady and upright and not flat on his back. "I dunno if this kid can make it home on his own."

"Which is why we're leaving now and not three more rounds from now," Kisa groused, annoyed that his author had proven much more of a lightweight than looks suggested. "I dunno where he lives, though, so I couldn't call him a cab even if I wanted to."

"So instead you're gonna let the poor thing navigate the Tokyo subway system like this?" He _tsk_ ed softly and patted Yukina fondly on the head. "Poor thing; such a good sport, and all he'll have to remember it by is a sore head." He cast Kisa a look of reproval. "If you're going to pick up guys like this, you really ought to take care of them."

"I didn't _pick him up_ , I--" His words were muffled when Yukina leaned in close and whispered something that could have been _You smell amazing_ or quite possibly _I think I'm gonna be sick_ , and he shoved the guy away at arm's length. "He had a bad day, so I thought he might like to get a drink, that's all. I've got standards, you know."

"'Has a pulse' is not a standard, Shouta."

"Fuck you," he grumbled, and looped one arm around Yukina's waist to guide him out of the bar. "C'mon, Prince Charming. Let's get you to the station. Can you remember the line you're on?" Yukina burped softly, leaning into Kisa and snorting in amusement at himself. "I don't think that's a legitimate train line."

"G'bye, Yukina-kun," Ryuu-san chirped, leaning against the doorjamb and ducking his head under the _noren_ to watch them leave. "Come back anytime. And if you have any friends who look as good as you do, bring them, too."

Kisa flipped him the bird in response, carefully guiding Yukina along and eyeing the sidewalk before them warily, watching for errant cracks in the pavement that might trip him up. He felt reasonably sober still, but he knew from experience this meant little in the long run. When Yukina stumbled over an invisible barrier, Kisa grabbed frantically for the arm Yukina had draped across his shoulders, clutching tighter at his waist and bringing their hips into contact. "Careful; Takano-san will kill me if I get our newest author's neck broken."

"Still early in the cycle, you said," Yukina reasoned with a lisp. "Y'can always find someone else to fill my slot." And after a moment's silence, they both broke into giggles at the thought, Kisa edging closer and letting his head rest against Yukina's arm and side as they gave each other support.

"You've got to stop texting me, you know," Kisa reminded as they drew up to the station entrance, making their way for the elevator off to the side; stairs and escalators were virtual death traps after this many drinks. "I can't get a damn thing done at work with you distracting me all the time like that." He punched the button, freeing his hand for only a moment before he pulled it back in to steady Yukina on his feet. There was probably no need for them to stand so closely here, but the little alcove had a semblance of privacy they hadn't enjoyed all evening, and Kisa found himself fighting to stay pressed up against Yukina like this for as long as he had the excuse to. He'd probably be too sober to let himself do this again anytime soon, and what was the use of getting drunk if not to do things you'd regret once you sobered up?

"I distract you?"

And from anyone else, Kisa would've turned his head up with a wicked smile painted across his lips, tugging them down for a quick kiss and a heated grope until the car dinged its arrival. But this was Yukina Kou, his client and responsibility, so this was not an option. He kept his eyes focused ahead and loosened his grip at Yukina's waist, confident he wouldn't topple forward. "I hope that's a rhetorical question."

Yukina chuckled softly, voice still that rich, dark tone it apparently took on when he got tipsy. If this was how he sounded drunk, it was probably for the best he didn't let himself go like that too often. He felt a twinge of jealousy grip his chest at the thought that dozens might have been privy to that voice before, and mentally scoffed at himself. Thirty-somethings had no business harboring petty jealousies that weren't theirs to have in the first place.

"I hope I do; it's only fair, after all." And before Kisa could ask what he meant, the elevator dinged its arrival, and Yukina gripped him by both shoulders to shove Kisa inside, demonstrating more presence of mind than Kisa had previously attributed. Maybe he was sobering up?

"Don't have to be so _rough_ ," he groused as the doors closed behind them and he found himself practically pressed against the far side of the car. He really was a huge lug of a guy, all but blotting out the fluorescent lights flickering above them. Kisa moved to turn around, arm reaching out to shove Yukina away at a proper distance, but he froze in mid-turn when his thigh brushed against--

 _Shit_.

Well this was awkward.

Cautiously maneuvering himself so as not to needlessly rub against the unmistakeable hard-on Yukina was sporting (Kisa knew boners and had had his fair share in close proximity to his person on numerous occasions; this was no case of 'mistaken identity'), Kisa carefully brought his arms up between them and eased Yukina away, patting his arm platonically as he did so. "…It's been a long day. We should get you home."

Yukina pressed in again, though, and Kisa wanted to believe it was innocent, that he didn't understand what he was doing, but that was kind of difficult for a guy like Kisa when there was a hard cock pointing in his direction, whatever the reason. Yukina bent down and cocked his head curiously. " _We_ …?"

"We--as far as the platforms downstairs at least. Don't want you pitching onto the tracks and leaving me to have to find a new filler author."

Yukina's smile widened, and Kisa panicked for a moment when he ducked down even further, hands clenching ready to shove Yukina away, maybe give him a good sharp slap to snap him back to his senses, but all he did was press their foreheads together, giggling until it resonated through to Kisa. "You take such good care of me."

"Well," Kisa reasoned weakly, "You're my author. You don't know what to do, what not to do yet." The car dinged its arrival, and Kisa forcibly placed some space between them when he caught sight of the line of passengers waiting for them to disembark. He grabbed Yukina's hand and jerked him along behind him, praying the guy didn't trip over any more invisible barriers in the meantime.

Kisa knew he could have taken another line, made it home a good fifteen minutes sooner than he was going to at this rate, but Yukina was already giving him a hopeful glance as they neared the ticket gates, and he sighed as he swiped his pass over the sensor, following Yukina who'd now taken the lead on remarkably steady feet. They chanced the escalator this time, riding it down the final level to the platforms, and Kisa glanced up to the bulletin flashing the train schedule--five minutes until Yukina's arrived, seven until his own in the opposite direction.

Yukina pulled Kisa down to settle beside him on a long bench while they waited for the trains to arrive; it was late, but not last-train time just yet, and the platform was dotted here and there with other commuters heading home as well. Even while they sat, Yukina didn't loosen his grip, instead scooting closer and using Kisa as support to keep from pitching forward. His eyes drooped sleepily, and Kisa elbowed him, annoyance in his voice. "Don't go to sleep, idiot. You'll miss your train."

He ignored the warning and closed his eyes anyway, letting their heads bump together again as he listed to the side. "Then you'll have to take me to your place, Kisa-san."

"Like hell. I'll leave you here and let the station staff take care of you."

"So mean!" Yukina whined, but the smile in his voice was obvious, and Kisa shivered when he turned his head to press his face into Kisa's hair, breathing in deeply. This guy was _dangerous_ when drunk; Kisa would have to watch more carefully in the future.

He rolled his shoulder, conscious of the others on the platform, and braced a hand between them. "Well that's the kind of guy I am; an asshole. Get used to it."

"You're not."

The protest was sharp and clear, more sober than Kisa was expecting, and his expression must have shown as much. "…Eh?"

"You're not--like that, Kisa-san. You're very kind, and you're thoughtful and caring--and I definitely don't think you'd leave me to the station staff."

Kisa snorted, glancing away and feigning interest in the oncoming train he could hear barreling down the track. "You're right; they've had a hard day themselves, I'm sure. No reason they should have to deal with some drunk guy passed out on a bench." Yukina's grip tightened around his hand, calling him back, and Kisa was a bit startled at the severity in his gaze. "Yukina…?"

"I'm sorry, Kisa-san."

"…Huh?"

"It's just, you're my first…" He pursed his lips in thought, finishing, "…editor." And it didn't make a bit of sense, but Kisa still felt his ears getting hot for some reason. Yukina _really_ needed to learn the concept of boundaries if he was going to continue being so attractive--and Kisa's fluttering pulse agreed.

The train rumbled to a stop, doors opening with a hiss to spill the few passengers out onto the platform and take in new ones. Already a merry little melody was tinkling over the loudspeakers, alerting everyone on the platform that the doors were about to close. "You--need to go," he reminded dumbly, and Yukina frowned, reluctantly snatching a hand out for his bag, clutching it close as he stumbled backwards and onto the waiting car.

Kisa watched the train pull away, idly massaging the wrist Yukina had gripped and feeling a little lightheaded from the whole evening. Maybe _he_ needed someone to help make sure he made it home safely. He brought a hand up to his neck and felt his pulse racing, bringing his palm away flushed. Great; now he'd let himself go and get worked up. This guy was proving way more trouble than he was worth.

A thought struck him, and he swallowed thickly, making his decision in a flash as he dragged his bag into his lap and rifled around inside for his phone--at which point it buzzed insistently in his hand, alerting him to an incoming text message. Frowning, he dismissed the alert, and his inbox popped open to display the most recently received message.

_**Sender:** Yukina Kou  
 **Subject:** Tonight  
 **Body:** Thank you for this evening. I really enjoyed it. Ryuu-san is nice. Good night Kisa-san._

Autocorrect seemed to have spared him the embarrassment of sending a typo-ridden text to Kisa, and he quickly tapped out a similarly polite message of thanks for a pleasant round of drinks, smiling despite himself as he hit _send_. Still more trouble than he was worth…but by a less obvious margin just now.

He shifted in place, about to tuck his phone away, before he abruptly remembered why he'd drawn the thing out in the first place. Pressing his knees together and willing his cock to calm down before he had to stand again, he pulled up his address book and began piecing through names, trying to place faces with them until he happened upon one--a 'Sasaki'-san--whose apartment was only two stops and a short walk away on this line.

He brought his hand back up to his neck again, lips curling up in approval when he found himself still running hot. No sense in wasting his mood on a cold shower and an early evening.

He snapped his phone shut with a _click_ and stuffed it into his bag while he waited for his train to pull in, closing his eyes with a satisfied grin on his face and trying not to remember who'd put him in this mood in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

_THUMP_

Kisa shot up, spine straight as a board, and squawked his surprise at being not-so-gently eased back into the waking world. Snickers floated his way from his desk mates, and he glanced up with sleep-bleary eyes to see who'd so rudely roused him, groaning inwardly when he found the editor-in-chief glaring down at him, arms crossed and fingers tapping impatiently. "Sorry to disturb your nap with work, Kisa."

He let the sarcasm slide over him, ducking his head in apology and pasting on a forced smile as he tried to laugh off his inattentiveness. "Sorry; just catching up on my beauty sleep. It's a lot of work to stay this good-looking, and my intake of men's--"

"Just do your fucking job and spare me the lip--oi, Onodera!" He breezed past Kisa and headed straight for the hall, already barking out new orders and leaving Kisa alone to review the heavy cardboard box that had been summarily dropped before him. He scooped up files and half-finished promotional plans and shifted them to the side in a large, unorganized pile (that would likely never become _not_ unorganized) to ease the box into a more steady position on his desk and keep it from tipping over onto the floor--as one glance inside assured Kisa that spilling the contents would be quite disastrous: hundreds of postcards and brightly colored envelopes decorated with stickers and drawings and postmarked over the previous two weeks, all addressed via Marukawa's offices courtesy of the Emerald department to "YUKINA" in big, bold capital letters.

A low whistle floated across the desk cluster as Mino shifted up in his seat to get a better look. "Someone's popular," he commented with a grin, brows lifting. "Impressive."

Curiosity evidently piqued, even Hatori peeked over the books shelved between their desks to see what had their attention. "…That's all for your new author?"

Kisa frowned, scanning the memo that had come with the box. "Apparently they got backed up downstairs…so they sent this box up now instead of waiting til the end of the month like usual; I guess this is just his…" He crumpled up the note and tossed it into the garbage, rifling through the stationery and postcards, flipping some over to gauge the reception.

In the weeks since they'd pressed reset on their relationship and gotten off to a better start, Kisa had noted, with pride, that Yukina was actually a rather capable guy once he stopped texting his editor every five minutes and instead focused his energies into developing a flowing plot, mapping out arcs for multi-chaptered storylines, and fleshing out characters that had previously been flat and dimensionless, all under Kisa's tutelage.

It had been a few years since he'd taken on a newbie author like this, one so wide-eyed and fresh-faced, thrilled just to have one chapter published let alone to be asked back for more--and three months was a decent span of time, plenty enough to get out there, get noticed, and hopefully get asked back for more.

"Well, he's got that in the bag…" Kisa muttered to himself, frowning as he picked up one of the envelopes and gave it an experimental sniff, nose wrinkling at the sickening floral scent radiating off the paper.

Yukina hadn't had any preference one way or the other regarding concealing his gender, and thus Kisa had taken it upon himself to use the circumstances to make a splash, banking heavily on the notion that Yukina would last at least long enough to release a volume compilation come fall. They'd keep everything hush-hush for the time being, slap an androgynous name on the cover--with Mutou Yukina-sensei on _Emerald_ 's roster as well, readers would probably just assume--ride the coattails of moderate readership until it came time to do promotional events for his first volume release, and then…waves would be made and sales would shoot through the roof.

Or at least, that had been the plan--the new plan taking shape looked to be a hell of a lot more stress-inducing; Yukina wasn't supposed to be _this_ popular. Had word gotten out? Had he blabbed somewhere? Had Kisa's 'fell swoop' been fallen and swept?

He sighed to himself, closing up the flaps on the box and digging around in one of his desk drawers for a spool of packing tape. He'd send it down to shipping with an invoice on Monday and let them take care of it; there was no way he was hauling a five-kilo box all the way to--

_BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ_

Kisa shifted around, trying to locate his cellphone--still buzzing, which meant a call and not a text--in the mess that was now his desktop, eventually finding it rattling against the tabletop beneath a sheet detailing Miyagi Nanami's numbers from last quarter (less dazzling than he'd hoped, of course).

He frantically snapped it open without glancing at the ID, worried he hadn't made it in time, and scurried out into the hall as he chirped, "Hello?"

_"Ah, Kisa-san? I'm sorry to call you at work."_

The preemptive apology did little to stop Kisa's mental groan; when was the guy going to learn to just call reception like he was meant to, or better yet, dial his extension properly? It really wasn't that difficult a matter.

He crossed his arms and ducked his head, dropping his voice as he pressed himself up against the walls of the hallway to keep out of the flow of traffic. "The day's almost over anyway; I kind of welcome the distraction." And it wasn't an entire lie; he'd had a rough week, and it was finally Friday--and while he did have a last minute check for Sakurai-sensei to take care of this weekend, he had faith his veteran author would only require a quick brush-up before he gave her the okay to ink. Yukina, on the other hand, would require a bit more attention, but they weren't scheduled to meet again to discuss his progress until Monday, which left him with a reasonably relaxing weekend ahead--his first in a fairly long while. "What did you need? You're not going to flake out on me, are you? I know the deadline seems tight, but I'm keeping you on a short leash these first few issues because I don't want you slacking off just because you _think_ you've got plenty of time, right? I won't have it said I'm the one who ruined your--"

 _"Oh, no no, quite the contrary!"_ Yukina was quick to interject, his nervous energy palpable over the line. _"I'm--actually already finished, so--"_

"Eh? Wait--you mean the storyboards we went over last week?"

_"Yes._

"You've already drafted them?"

_"I have!"_

"But--weren't there like 30 pages-worth of panels?"

 _"Thirty-two!"_ He seemed entirely too pleased with himself, but not in a conceited way, more…a desperately-seeking-praise manner, and Kisa was reminded not for the first time of how much the guy reminded him of a puppy, eager to please. After the pause dragged on too long as Kisa tried to process the guy's inhuman speed, Yukina prodded, _"Is that…bad? I promise the quality didn't suffer! I did as you suggested and outline my thoughts--"_

"No--no, that's…" He huffed in amusement, shaking is head and running one hand through his hair. "I'm…kind of impressed is all. I usually have to kick asses into gear, not have mine kicked."

Yukina's laughing response was not light or patronizing but surprisingly genuine, and Kisa found himself a bit rattled by the attention. Obsequious he could deal with; actually _amused_ by his less-than-witty commentary and upbeat and eager for conversation when Kisa was bored even talking to _himself_ at times? This was new and novel and should have been flattering (and was, on some level) but was mostly leaving him confused and feeling altogether awkward.

He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. "Hey…"

_"Hm?"_

"You…there's some fan mail here for you and--"

_"EH? FAN MAIL? LIKE--MAIL FROM FANS?"_

Kisa winced and held the phone away from his ear. "That's…generally what fan mail is considered to be, yeah."

 _"Wait--people sent_ mail _to me? Letters?"_

"And postcards. A whole box full."

 _"A--_ box _?"_

He leaned back against the doorjamb he was killing time in, letting his head rest against the paneling. "We usually send authors notice once a month, but you've apparently made a pretty good impression on the readers, so we're kind of swamped now and…" He paused, frowning. "You…didn't _tell_ anyone who you are, did you? Because I thought we'd discussed that we would keep it a secret for now and use it to boost interest in sales after your first volume comes out--"

Yukina's gasp was horrified. _"No--no of course not! You're my editor; I take everything you say to heart! I haven't even told my_ parents _about this!"_ And Kisa wondered offhand what the guy's parents thought their son was doing, if not gainfully employed as a mangaka. _"Kisa-san--"_ His tone waxed serious. _"I trust you; I'd never--"_

"Okay okay, geez--I wasn't accusing you of anything. I just--haven't had a new artist in a long while, so I guess I just forgot how big a splash new blood can make in a desperate market. You're more than good enough to have earned this, so I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions." He grimaced, the forced apology feeling bitter on his tongue. "…I guess I can bring it by, if you want…? The box, that is." He didn't have to; he didn't _want_ to, even. But there was something about the earnest way Yukina sought to ensure that Kisa had no cause to be disappointed with him that made him want to stand the guy up and slap him around a bit, tell him to get ahold of himself and grow a pair. It made him feel a twinge of pity when _he_ was the cause of such fawning gestures, and that sucked.

_"Eh--the mail, you mean? But--if it's a box, won't it be terribly heavy…?"_

Kisa shrugged. "It's not so bad--and I can look over your draft while I'm at it." Before Yukina could sputter a response or Kisa could remember that he wasn't the workaholic his coworkers could be nor was he under any obligation to hand-deliver Yukina praises from his adoring fans who'd known him for all of one issue so far, he prodded, "So where are you?" and kissed his restful weekend goodbye.

* * *

At least he was still within the 23 wards; if Yukina had lived out in Hachiouji or some boondocks area of Chiba, Kisa would've had to seriously reconsider his magnanimous (and uncalled for) offer. But Nakano-ku, while not Chiyoda, was at least not too far a train ride away, and just one change-over later, Kisa found himself standing just outside the North Gate, box of fan mail cradled awkwardly under one arm against his hip while he texted with his free hand, trying to locate his mark.

Yukina was not a difficult man to spot, tall and attractively lanky with an aura that set him apart from the crowd in a manner that left Kisa feeling that odd mixture of pride and abject embarrassment. He supposed he was going to have to accept that this was part and parcel of associating with Yukina.

After exchanging chipper greetings and inquiring about Kisa's difficulty in making the trip from the Marukawa offices in Iidabashi, Kisa rewarded the guy with the box he'd had his eye on since they'd met up, relieved to finally be free of the burden. When Yukina gave it an experimental shake to surmise its contents, he added, "Not a bad haul for a newbie."

Yukina didn't seem miffed by the 'newbie' quip at all, instead brightening. "I still can't quite believe it's all mine--you're sure there wasn't a mistake or…?" He raised his brows hopefully, and Kisa rolled his eyes, grabbing him by the shoulders and whirling him around to face forward, giving him a shove. "We're not going through your gifts from adoring admirers in the middle of the street."

Yukina allowed himself to be forcibly steered for a few paces before scrambling out of Kisa's grip, and snatching up his wrist, giving a tug in the opposite direction. "Oh--of course! This way then!" And of course he had to be flashy about it, had to toss out one of those winning smiles that'd probably made many a peer go weak in the knees, and of course it had to have the same effect on Kisa despite his every effort to quash it. In response, he jerked his hand back, shoved both into his pockets, and tromped along behind Yukina with a sour expression, already regretting the decision to come this far and wondering how long it would take to wean himself off of Yukina's unconscious charm.

"Not soon enough," he muttered, and waved off Yukina's bemused glance as they headed for the corner to meld into a crowd waiting for a stoplight to change.

* * *

Yukina's apartment was surprisingly well-kept for a bachelor, and when Yukina humbly reminded Kisa that he'd had time to clean up before Kisa's arrival, he found himself unable to imagine its previous state had been all that much more untidy and snorted, "You'll make some chick a fine househusband someday," before settling onto one of the floor cushions in front of Yukina's low table and reaching for the familiar packet in which Yukina usually kept his sketches and panels for Marukawa.

Silence settled between them as Yukina puttered about the kitchen preparing what smelled like a weak tea, and Kisa rifled through the pages of drafts that Yukina had pounded out in record time.

"What about you, Kisa-san?"

Kisa jumped, twisting around and glancing about in confusion as Yukina gently set a mug at his elbow, settling down on the edge of his low-slung bed just to Kisa's left as he blew over the surface of his own drink.

"Eh?" He took a breath and carefully rearranged the pages he'd scattered when Yukina had startled him, breaking his concentration. Considering the time in which Yukina had drawn up the drafted panels, they were more than passable--the guy soaked up critique and direction like a sponge, rarely making the same mistake twice and always appreciative when Kisa pointed out what habits he needed to break himself of and why.

He took a tentative sip from his mug, wincing at the heat. "Will you be, ah--'making someone a fine househusband someday', as you put it?"

Kisa's chest tightened, and he suddenly wished Yukina had poured him something stronger than tea. He swallowed and blinked a few times in rapid succession, phrasing his response carefully. "I don't…really date all that much. No time." Which wasn't a lie at all; he went on dates (albeit very, very occasionally), but he didn't _date_ , because that required being sufficiently into someone, opening up to the idea of being in a relationship, accepting that there was someone worth being with who was for whatever reason attracted to 30-year-old gay midgets (and who wanted to be with someone like that, anyways?). Flings were fun, pretending to be half his age and flirting with the salarymen who frequented Ryuu's and similar haunts--but much more beyond the occasional booty call and it got to be too much, too _serious_ , and the mere thought sent a shiver of unease down Kisa's spine.

"…That's too bad." And Kisa nearly choked on the sip he'd started to take, because the guy sounded so genuinely forlorn, disappointed in Kisa's flippant waving off of the entire institution of relationship-having. "I'm sure you'd make a great boyfriend."

"Right…" Kisa allowed cautiously, shaking his head; he had to be careful around this one. Idle comments like that, while surely from the heart and with genuine platonic affection, weren't the kinds of things Kisa needed to hear uttered by lips such as Yukina possessed in so private a setting. He cleared his throat and tapped the stack of pages on the table. "You want to go through these first, or your 'box of goodies' over there?" He jerked his head to the box sitting on the floor at the foot of Yukina's single. When Yukina seemed genuinely torn and hesitated to respond for a few long moments, Kisa huffed and shifted around, stretching to drag the box across the floor. "You got a box cutter? I'd meant to ship this on Monday."

Yukina practically leapt off the bed, darting over to a drafting table shoved into a corner and rifling through a pull-out drawer attached to it, eventually returning with the blade and passing it end-first to Kisa, who smoothly swiped it over the top flaps and peeled open the box.

"…Wow," was really all Yukina could muster, and Kisa couldn't blame him. A strong floral scent wafted about the room as soon as the flaps were pressed back, and before Kisa could even properly settle the box onto the table for easier access, Yukina was already piecing through the contents, flipping each over to inspect the addressee's information with a giddy smile. "This is…"

Kisa settled back onto his hands, letting his head loll to the side as he took in the image before him, Yukina tearing through the box with unguarded excitement, mouthing words to himself as he paused now and then to read a postcard that caught his eye. He let out a small gasp of excitement at one in particular, flipping the envelope around and tapping the address. "This one--it's from my home town even!"

Kisa leaned forward to inspect the writing and rolled his eyes. "Statistically, there's probably a dozen in there from Sapporo; it's not exactly a little podunk village, after all."

Yukina pinched his face into a frown, but wasn't very successful, and just settled for shrugging. "It's still special! Maybe I can hang this one up…" He started casting about, probably trying to remember where he'd stashed a case of thumbtacks, and Kisa drew him back to reality by reaching forward to draw the box into his lap. "Kisa-san?"

"…You're good, you know?"

"Huh?"

He shook the box. "I know you think it's new and exciting getting this kind of thing, but you deserve it really. Your debut work's being read by thousands of people across the country, touching fans enough that they felt compelled to write to you from Fukuoka and Hiroshima and Nagoya and yeah, Sapporo even." He folded the panels down to close the box again and crossed his arms over it. "It's not amazing that they mailed these letters; you're amazing for having earned them. So you should just…be proud of yourself. For now, at least." He pressed, emphasizing, "Not just happy. _Proud_."

Yukina's expression sobered for a beat, then softened into a smile as he nodded. "But that's not a very healthy habit to encourage in your authors, Kisa-san."

Kisa shoved the box back into the corner, shifting around to the table again. "Maybe that's why I'm not a very good editor." He'd meant it to be a self-deprecating quip, but it came out with far more bitterness than he'd intended, and he bit his tongue in irritation as he tried to spark a new conversation thread before Yukina favored him with more fawning praise of how he'd been solely responsible for his meteoric rise in popularity with so relatively little material under his belt--and then he bit even harder in reprimand for entertaining such conceited fantasies to begin with. "Let's go over this draft, shall we?"

* * *

"Well," Kisa huffed, capping his pen. "I'll give you this: your dialogue's gotten smoother, less stilted and amateur, and your cliffhangers are proper cliffhangers now rather than half-assed ending points. That's more important than you might think." He replaced the clip holding the pages together and slid the sheaf back into the file he'd removed it from. "Gotta keep 'em wanting more, or that's the end."

His tea had grown lukewarm--and then cold--some time back, and he'd waved off Yukina's offer for a refill until he'd finished his work, not wanting to be interrupted. Kisa knew they'd agreed initially to have this discussion on Monday, and it was well past office hours by now; he was under no obligation to glance at much less go over Yukina's work…but crazily enough, once he'd started, he'd found he couldn't really _stop_. He'd gotten drawn in, and while he would never confess as much--no sense in giving this guy too big a head, not on the heels of all that fan mail--he was silently impressed, and a little excited. Even in these rough sketches with patchy scraps of dialogue scribbled into the margins, the improvement over his initial attempts was obvious, and Kisa could practically see the final draft in his mind's eye. With this kind of leaps-and-bounds progress in only a matter of a few weeks since their last major discussion...

He tapped the file with one finger, chin supported in his free hand. "How far ahead do you plan?"

Yukina gingerly stood in place, unfurling his legs where he'd settled down onto the floor to more easily review his work beside Kisa. Teetering unsteadily, he picked up their mugs and headed toward the kitchen to rinse them in the sink. "Plan?"

Kisa shifted around, settling back against the low table. "Yeah, like--outlines? Scraps of dialogue you want to work in somewhere eventually, maybe some rough sketches of major scenes you've got in your head but haven't figured out the exact placement yet?"

Yukina's brows furrowed in thought, and he shrugged. "I suppose I have a general idea, in my head? A stopping point at least, and how I want the couple to get together--" He bit his lip and smiled to himself, no doubt envisioning it in his head already, and Kisa rolled his eyes, slapping his hand on the table to bring the guy back to his senses. "Ah--but, no, I don't suppose I've written down anything concrete yet?"

Kisa frowned. "Well--you should change that. Start keeping a notebook--or a sketchbook--dedicated solely to writing down whatever comes to you. I don't care if it's something you don't see yourself working in for a hundred chapters from now; it'd be a waste to lose out on a good idea just because you got distracted by a sale on pork belly at the supermarket and forgot to jot it down." Yukina seemed skeptical; he probably was used to flying by the seat of his pants, letting ideas just flow onto the paper as they came to him instead of spending time actually plotting, outlining his story and building from the inside out. "And that's a direct command from your editor; so don't flake out on me, or I'll know."

Yukina offered him a half-hearted salute before shuffling back into the living space from his little kitchen area; Kisa might have been tempted to call his place 'cramped', but it was so well laid out that he could find no other words than 'cozy' to describe the room. Yukina reclaimed his place on the edge of his bed, the old mattress squeaking under him as he sank down, and for a brief flash, Kisa realized that he was here, in what served as Yukina's bedroom, alone with the guy, a hair's breadth from a bed that had seen better days but could still more than handle a bit of action.

He swallowed thickly and reminded himself he really needed to make better use of the names taking up space in his cellphone memory if he was going to start popping one every time Yukina turned around. Granted, he was already treading thin ice allowing himself to be so free with the guy--he certainly never would have offered to lug a box stuffed with fan mail to the home of one of his veteran authors, no matter how sweetly they batted their eyes (then again, most of them knew perfectly well that wouldn't work on Kisa anyways). He was doing himself no favors, failing to keep himself in check around Yukina and likely coming off harsher than intended just to keep from instead snapping back to the opposite extreme and all the self-debasement involved therein. 'Look but don't touch' was no mantra to live by if one wanted to enjoy living and not see it as one long dangling carrot. Fuck, he could use a carrot right about now.

Kisa _knew_ what kind of guy he was--knew what kind of guys he was attracted to, knew that Yukina hit all the right buttons. But he was also a professional, Yukina was straight, and there were only about a dozen other reasons he could draw on to remind his cock that there were times and places to pop up for a lookaround and in Yukina's remote vicinity _wasn't_ one of those. Work was an easy enough distraction most of the time, but one moment's lost focus and...

Clearing his throat, he continued their conversation on a new track. "So--where are you heading with the story next? Even I can't see what's coming with the way you trussed the end up like that." He wasn't all that interested, honestly, but the silence was deafening, especially when your thoughts were straying down less than savory paths.

Yukina began to organize his sketch pack now that Kisa had finished ripping it to pieces, brightening at the apparent interest from a party he could freely discuss such matters with. "Ah--actually, a date!"

"…Eh?"

"A date," he repeated simply. "I'm not sure how to work it in, but I've always wanted to draw one of those--it's practically a shoujo manga standard! Boy meets girl, boy invites girl on date--and then lunch at a cafe, window-shopping in some trendy district, and a romantic ferris wheel ride at night…" He propped his chin up in one hand settled on his knee, bent forward at the waist and grinning, full of himself. "Too cliche?"

And Kisa had the sinking feeling he was being patronized, furrowing his brow and sitting up straight. "Extremely. I'm being serious here."

Yukina snorted softly at the reaction and crossed his arms in front of him. "Well--I _am_ being half-serious at least. I'd like to include something…classically romantic like that, you know? Every love story has it, sure, but…because of that, I want to challenge myself with the task. To draw something, write something that people see and feel like they've read something familiar and at the same time brand new…"

Kisa pursed his lips, unconvinced. "Well…I won't tell you not to; it's your story, and you get the final say, but…I guess I'd advise you to be careful. Go against the grain too much and you'll come off as blatantly pandering, trying to break the mold and all that, and readers will sour to it. They'll go where you lead, but only so far."

"As expected of Kisa-san! You always know what to say."

Kisa snorted. "This isn't my first day on the job, you know." He cast about for his bag, readying to make his exit now that they'd reached a suitable stopping point for the evening. With some luck, he might still be able to salvage some of that 'relaxing weekend' he'd been planning on having. "But--do me a favor at least and run your ideas by me when you have something fleshed out, would you? I can at least warn you if it's been done before by one of our authors."

"Yes sir~" Yukina conceded, leaning over to reach Kisa's bag where it sat just beyond his grasp and passing it to him as he stood. Kisa took the bag, being sure to give Yukina a _look_ that told him his patronization was not appreciated, thank you very much, and was a bit startled by the, "Ah!" that followed as the straps left his grasp. "A date!"

"...Huh?" Was Yukina _still_ going on about that trope he seemed hellbent on shoehorning into what was otherwise a decent manga, even if only a grand total of _one_ chapter had seen print? He settled his bag over his shoulder, tightening the strap where it crossed his chest. "Like I said, just let me know what you decide and--"

"No, no!" He pounded one fist into the other palm, as if he'd just struck upon the most glorious idea. "Let's go on a date!"

" _Excuse me?_ "

"Ah--no, I don't mean--" He waved his hands before himself, taking a step back and giving Kisa blessed breathing room. "I only meant--" He coughed into one hand to give himself time to regroup his thoughts, continuing on at a steadier clip, "I'll need to do some, ah, research for the scene--it takes place in Tokyo, after all, and I'm not even sure where it would be appropriate for a young couple to--so I just thought--"

Kisa's voice went high and desperate, nearly cracking, and he held onto his bag's strap for dear life, feeling his cheeks heat in shame. "Th--then go on your own, geez! Why do I have to--?!"

And Yukina's face fell, amused embarrassment quickly replaced by hurt confusion that wasn't being skillfully hidden as his mouth flapped open and shut a few times before he found his words again. "I only…I thought, two birds with one stone: I need to do the research, and I thought to treat you to lunch or something, since I know you didn't have to hand-deliver these letters or read through my manuscript after hours, so I just…" He swallowed, glancing around in a desperate attempt to find something, _any_ thing, to distract himself with, to avoid betraying the emotion that always tended to rise quickly to the surface in him like bubbles from the deep.

It was a pitiful sight, and Kisa bit his tongue in reprimand. He was always overreacting around this guy, even at the most benign of suggestions--but he didn't suppose he could really be blamed for reacting like that to a decidedly _not_ benign invitation to go out together. Yukina could paint it in all the altruistic colors he wanted, ramble on about how it was out of _gratitude_ and wanting to express his thanks to his capable, compassionate editor, but all Kisa's id heard was solicitation, suggestion, _let's get closer than close_ , and that did nothing to help keep a healthy distance between them, working only to lull Kisa into a false sense of security until he up and did something stupid like staring besottedly at his author while he was supposed to be red-marking a climactic blowup between the protagonist and her rival.

He wiped a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes and growling low in frustration. "Sorry. Just. You--don't have to do that. Really. It just seemed like the right thing to do was all."

He didn't need to look Yukina in the eye to understand the strain in his voice. "…Before, you said…"

Kisa groaned mentally, daring a glance up. "What?"

"You said that outside of business hours, I could do what I want."

A frown twisted Kisa's features as he recalled the conversation from weeks back. "Yeah, but--that didn't take away my _free will_ , you know."

"Then you don't want to go, is what you're saying."

"I _didn't_ say--" He snapped his mouth shut; fuck, had he pegged Yukina all wrong this whole time? Was he less a free-spirited high-strung overgrown little mutt and more a conniving, fiendish fox who twisted words and backed his prey into a corner until they melted before him? Because that's how he was coming off now, and it didn't suit him at all. Kisa licked his lips. "You know that's not what I meant."

"I'm sorry, Kisa-san, but truthfully I don't." His features were hard, but his eyes were soft, almost imploring, like he was trying to hold himself together and be strong and stand up to Kisa's admittedly overwrought responses to his every invitation. "I see no reason you should have to turn down my offer, seeing as I do in fact owe you for coming all the way over here when I'm sure you had better things to do on a Friday evening--" And what Kisa would've given to know just what the guy was _sure_ Kisa had plans to do, left to his own devices on a weekend. "--unless you object to spending time with me for some reason or another." He frowned, not in disappointment or resentment, but confusion--with himself. "Is it because it counts as work? I'd considered doing prep work tomorrow and inviting you out on Sunday, but if a weekday would be better, then all you needed to say way--"

"Shit-- _fine_. Just. Shut up." He was getting a headache, and Yukina's roundabout logic and habit of talking himself into utterly fallacious conclusions was wearisome. He held up a hand, requesting a reprieve. "Geez, do you have an 'off' button?"

His head cocked and brows drew together. "I'm sorry?"

"I _said_ fine--I'll go with you on you…reconnaissance mission or whatever."

"Date."

"I'm not calling it a _date_ ," he grit out, turning on his heel and marching through the kitchenette towards the genkan where he'd left his shoes. "And just so we're clear-- _you_ shouldn't eith--"

He fell silent in mid-lecture, eye falling on the low-set shoebox topped by a three-tier bookcase just beside the door, Yukina's slippers and sneakers and sandals peeking out from below shelves filled with _A Modernist History_ , _The Painter in Oils_ , _Perspectives for Mangaka_ , weighing down one end, balanced out at the opposite by at least a dozen very familiar titles, a line of B5 _tankoubon_ bearing names he'd grumbled and complained about as much as he'd boasted of. Unconsciously, he reached out and traced the spine of one, snapping his hand back at Yukina's concerned, "Kisa-san?" just beside him.

"Eh?"

Yukina pressed in closer behind him, his hand going up to point to a three-volume title on the far end--one of Morimoto Kana's more popular pieces. Kisa had helped organize a promotional event for the release of the final volume not two months prior. "Inspiration," he reminded.

Kisa wriggled free, heart thumping nervously in his throat as he glanced from the bookcase to Yukina and back again. "Inspi…what?" He narrowed his gaze. "Why do you have these?"

Yukina's expression was a mask of innocent confusion. "Like I said: Inspiration." He dragged his finger down to a collection of one-shots by Mizushima Yoko, one of Kisa's first projects when he'd joined Marukawa. "This one…I read in a manga cafe killing time waiting for a friend to meet me for lunch. Someone had left it in the booth I was assigned, so I picked it up and…wound up reading the entire thing through in one swoop. It made me want to create something like it, something that could grab someone's interest with so little effort and refuse to release them until they'd taken all they could." His lips curled up at their corners when he tapped the spine of one, broken and bent such that the title was nearly unrecognizable. "And when I finished this one, I started doing rough character sketches." He jerked his hand back, immediately contrite, "Ah--I didn't copy anything, of course. I said I was inspired, but more like…encouraged, I suppose? Not just the stories I read, but the flow, the dialogue, the way the art and the text were laid out, blending together to tell a story that couldn't be related by either alone." He smiled fondly upon his collection. "It showed me that there are people I can't reach just with drawings or paintings, no matter how hard I try."

Kisa's mouth was dry, and he couldn't swallow around his heart. This didn't happen, right? People didn't just _by chance_ collect everything not from one mangaka, not from one publishing house, but from _one editor_ , did they?

"I want to create manga like this. And--" He turned that dazzling smile on Kisa now, full of hope and honest, open confidence. "--I know that with Kisa-san's help, I will."

Breath slowly returned to Kisa's lungs, and he just nodded mutely, turning on his heel and casting about for his shoes, everything still something of a blur as he put his back to the wall of manga that stood as a silent, unspoken shrine to himself, his work over the years in patterned pinks sandwiched oddly between sketchbooks with curling edges and glossy reference tomes.

"Sunday?"

"Huh?" He winced--had he lost all speaking ability, left it back in Yukina's bedroom with marked-up draft sheets and that box full of fan mail? He licked his lips to try and form some coherent speech. "What about Sunday?"

"Our…not-date." Yukina was being careful not to smile, but Kisa could still hear it in his voice and frowned extra sourly to make up for it. "I'll spend tomorrow researching and text you a tentative schedule in the evening, if that's all right?" He paused, then added for good measure, "Unless you had some suggestions…?"

"Do your own digging; it's not my manga," Kisa reminded snippily, doing his level best not to misinterpret the offhand comment as a probing question of what sorts of places Kisa might like to be taken on a date. He squatted down to adjust the ties on his shoes, eager to extricate himself from what he was now comfortable calling 'cramped quarters', especially with Yukina hovering so close.

"Of course," Yukina agreed easily, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Kisa finish his preparations. "I'll text tomorrow then--or should I call?"

"Text!" Kisa squawked, then groped blindly behind him for the doorknob, sighing in relief when it gave with minimal effort as he stumbled out into the night and beat a hasty retreat down Yukina's stairs with only a backwards wave of his hand as 'goodbye', feeling somehow like he'd both won and lost something in the exchange.


	4. Chapter 4

Kisa hadn't been on anything that remotely resembled a date in months--and he hadn't been on anything that remotely resembled a _shoujo manga_ version of a date in…well, he couldn't honestly remember the last time. Because who the hell actually went on dates that involved things like ferris wheels and eating crepes from street carts and walking arm in arm around an aquarium ooh-ing and aah-ing and generally being a two-person embarrassment to society?

Certainly not Kisa Shouta, that was for sure, and certainly no one he would associate with.

…Is what he would have liked to have boasted, and yet here he was: all but _clinging_ to Yukina's arm in a very real, desperate attempt not to get carried away by the crowd, in danger of collapsing underneath the mass of humanity swarming around him, youth and vigor pressing in on all sides and not at all the welcome respite he'd been hoping to enjoy this weekend--

"Do you come to Harajuku often, Kisa-san?"

"Eh?"

Yukina ducked closer, a feat given that he was a fricking _giant_ compared to Kisa, and raised his voice to be heard over the din of the crowd swarming around them. "I asked if you came here often--" And why oh _why_ did it have to come out sounding like a cheesy pick-up line? "--It's just, you don't seem very comfortable here…"

Kisa frowned and pressed closer to Yukina, side-stepping a trio of teenagers in gothic outfits who were leering at him knowingly. "Probably haven't been here since it was actually _appropriate_ for me to be here…" he muttered, not caring if Yukina heard him or not.

"Oh," Yukina smiled to himself, "I suppose it _has_ been a while then," and Kisa twisted to give him a _look_ , because whether he'd meant it as a snide remark or not--all right, sure, this was Yukina, he probably didn't mean it like that--Kisa was not in the habit of letting that kind of lip slide, but he was two hearbeats away from fainting in the crowd that just would _not_ let up, and Yukina, bless him, seemed to pick up on this. "If we can make it to Meiji Doori, the crowd lets up--should be easier to breathe."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever," Kisa allowed flippantly, but he closed his eyes for a few paces, letting Yukina guide them along. It fucking sucked--this whole setup. What the hell was he doing here? He didn't accompany authors on reference-gathering missions; it wasn't done, for one, and it was a waste of time, for another. What good was he, clinging like a girl to Yukina's arm and suffering the gazes of every other passerby who, just right now, Kisa _really_ didn't feel like dealing with?

He could sense Yukina's discomfort, feel him frowning down in genuine concern, and it _grated_ , almost as much as the crowd did, but he had little recourse right now save to allow his author to goad him into tagging along, so along he went, and some interminable amount of time later, the throng did indeed loosen, the crowd thinning and a cool breeze coursing through, breathing life back into Kisa's battered body. He was getting too old for this, god.

"This way, Kisa-san," Yukina prompted with a tug of his arm, and Kisa's eyes fluttered open, eyeline following where Yukina was pointing down the street. "We can stop for a refreshment in--"

"You're--taking us to _Omotesandou Hills_?" he practically shrieked, earning stares from those passing around--but Kisa paid them no attention, grabbing Yukina by the biceps and tugging him down to face level, "You write about the absurdly dramatic lovelives of _teenagers_. Average, middle-class _teenagers_. What the hell business do they have going into _Omotesandou Hills_? Why the hell aren't we in--I don't know, Shibuya, or Odaiba, or Yoyogi--"

"Ah--" Yukina brightened, "you'd rather we visited those areas?"

" _No_ ," Kisa groused, "I mean--you _told_ me you did research on this last night--"

"Popular date spots in the Tokyo Metropolitan Area, yes…"

"Did you even bother to check, I dunno, _age ranges_?" He cast a hand about, gesturing wildly. "This is for twenty-somethings, not thirteen-year-olds!"

Yukina's excitement dimmed a hair, and he glanced around in concern, processing Kisa's rant--and really, he hadn't meant it as a rant, but honestly, bumpkin from Hokkaido or no, this was ridiculous. "I just…I mean, there are plenty of young people here, and even though it's crowded, I quite like people-watching, so I thought maybe…"

Kisa ran a hand through his hair, sighing and wishing he could just yank out a chunk of it in frustration. "What--that kids still reliant on their parents' allowances would pop in for gelato-for-two before window-shopping at 'Dolce and Gabbana'? I mean, sure--" He jerked a thumb back up Takeshita Doori, "--there's plenty of fun to be had just taking a walk through that veritable moshpit, but it's hardly a _date_ that kids would enjoy." He raised a brow, seeking agreement, but Yukina just deflated, and Kisa was left to scramble to lift his spirits, "Just--it's not a bad date spot for grownups, see? People our--well, people _your_ age, maybe. Kids don't like this stuff--kids _can't afford_ to like this stuff." When Yukina remained silent, still obviously reflecting on his miscalculation, Kisa tugged on his shirt sleeve. "You just didn't think it through, is all."

A nod. "No, no--you're right, I understand of course." He sighed, casting a forlorn glance down the 413. "I'm not…all _that_ removed from middle school, I figured, and I certainly would have liked to have come here, even just to look around…" He sighed, then flipped up the flap of his bag, digging around for a small notebook and pen. Leafing through a few pages, he frowned and made an annotation while Kisa shifted uneasily from one foot to the next, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact with those around them. "I suppose we shouldn't…" Yukina's frown deepened, and he scratched his temple with the capped end of the pen. "Damn, I may need to rethink this schedule…"

"Huh?" Kisa snapped a hand out, snatching the notebook away, heedless of Yukina's protests, and raked his eyes over the tentative schedule. The guy had given him some shit about 'wanting it to be a surprise' the previous evening, only reminding Kisa of a time and location to meet up, and Kisa wanted to just curl up and die right then--an art museum, lunch in a trendy Ginza cafe, and, of course, a _ferris wheel ride at night_. Had he been speaking in tongues the other day? Had the guy not listened to a _word_ of advice he'd given?

He shoved the notebook back against Yukina's chest and grabbed the guy by the wrist, tugging him toward the subway entrance at the corner and grumbling beneath his breath, "So now I have to do everything myself, is it…?"

* * *

"Kisa-san! Kisa-san-- _look_! The view is _amazing_!"

Kisa shoved himself further against the little corner he'd sequestered himself away in, holding the water bus brochure in front of his face and pretending to be exceedingly interested in the school trip course--because the only other option was to admit to everyone that yes, he was acquainted with the idiot acting like a teenage girl--how _appropriate_ \--and demanding his attention every five minutes because _Oh my god Kisa-san, you can see the Sky Tree so clearly from here!_.

If nothing else, it was at least a sight better than people-watching in Harajuku.

His camouflage was abruptly tugged down, exposing him to Yukina's face peering in far too closely for public, and he flinched. " _Kisa-san_. You're not enjoying the cruise!"

"It's just a lap around the bay," Kisa reminded huffily, "and you're the one who's supposed to be paying attention, besides. So--go pay attention." He waved a hand, shooing his author away, and tried to divine just how much it would cost for a class of 30 students to rent a boat for an hour--when Yukina's fingers slipped around his wrist and jerked him forward without warning or apology. "Oh-- _hey_ \--!"

"Look," Yukina commanded gently, pressing Kisa face-first against the tall, domed glass and zipping around behind him to guide his eyeline, reaching over his shoulder and pointing out structures in the distance, voice low and soft by his ear. "You can still see the Asahi Building just in the distance there…and Kachidoki Bridge is just up ahead, beyond which lies the fish market and Tokyo Tower…"

"I feel like a tourist," Kisa complained sourly, grateful that his voice was remarkably steady and not nearly as husky as he'd worried it would come out with Yukina standing this close and treating him like--well, like they were on a date. "I take it back--this is a crappy date course."

Blessedly, Yukina pulled away, disappointment thick in his voice, "Eh? I think it's quite nice!"

Kisa turned in place, ducking around his companion and plopping down along one of the benches spanning the center of the boat. "Who wants to stand around for an hour gaping out a window at stuff they've probably seen a dozen times? It's stupid. I was stupid to suggest it."

There was a beat of silence as Yukina settled down beside him, hands clasped in his lap, and he _hmm_ ed softly, returning confidently, "I don't think it was stupid; if nothing else, I enjoyed myself."

Kisa slumped back, crossing his arms and glaring at Yukina out of the corner of his eye. "This is supposed to be for _reference_ , not for _fun_."

Yukina simply turned to him, bracing one arm along the back of the bench and likely not even aware of what it looked like, felt like, voice low and enticing and entirely too much for Kisa to handle _right now_. "Is there some rule saying it can't be both?"

And no, no there wasn't, unfortunately.

* * *

"Hmm…"

Kisa's brows furrowed, but he kept his eyes resolutely pressed shut, willing himself to relax and enjoy the play of light and dark across his face from the sunlight streaming down through the trees and the gentle, crisp spring breeze cascading over him. "… _What?_ "

"It's just--we were here earlier today already…"

"No," Kisa corrected, keeping his voice even with effort, "We were _near_ here. We were way the hell over in Harajuku. And where are we now?"

"Well--Yoyogi park, of course, but--"

"But?" It was almost a challenge; how much of Kisa could this guy take before he _broke_ , before he got fed up?

"But--are you _sure_ this is any sort of…date spot?" A pause, and he could tell Yukina had turned his head, casting about, for his voice grew fainter, further away. "It's beautiful, and relaxing yes--but the sakura haven't even blossomed yet, and I hardly see any couples…"

"A date spot's what you make of it. Two people on their own, enjoying themselves--that can make most anywhere a date spot."

"…Then I don't see what was wrong with--"

"Just shut up and take notes or something," he groused, voice heavy with fatigue, not because the day had been long--it was barely 3:30--but because keeping up with Yukina was taxing. The years between them became more obvious when juxtaposed with the Tokyo youth haunting the trails they'd been walking all day, and while romantic boat rides and relaxing quiet moments under a ginkgo were all well and good, at the end of the day, they didn't quite suit a man like Kisa Shouta. Little did, he was starting to accept, outside of a drink or two and some innocent flirtation--just to prove he wasn't easy, of course--before letting himself be corralled into a bathroom stall (if it was a place he didn't care for) or side alley (if it was a place he did), or if they were persuasive enough and if he didn't have work the next day, maybe a hotel room (so long as he wasn't expected to pay--and since they usually thought him a minor, he never was).

Shoujo manga and its romanticized, rose-colored ideals. _Fuck_ , what the hell was an aging midget degenerate like himself doing dictating to someone who seemed to live and breathe _fantasy_ , a prince-charming-incarnate, just what young girls wanted to read about, what was believable and what wasn't?

Reality was shit; let them have their idealized dreams for once.

He pursed his lips and took a breath, opened his mouth: "You know, you should just--"

"Please be quiet--and don't move, Kisa-san."

"Eh?" His brows furrowed and he let his lids flutter open, trying to focus on Yukina just off to his side. He clenched his stomach to help heave himself up into a seated position, trying not to grunt as he did so with the effort. "What're you--"

"Ah--ah," and a hand pressed down, gently but firmly, on his shoulder, guiding him down onto his back again, "I said--please don't move. And please don't talk, either; another five minutes, that's all."

Kisa wasn't sure why he felt compelled to obey, but he found himself complying all the same, and he caught a glimpse of that notebook again--wait, no, this one was bigger, spiral-bound with crisp, plain white sheets, and Yukina was hunched over it, shoulders straight and gaze sharp and focused, and his hands were convulsing, skittering over the paper in long swooping arcs and short, stuttering attacks and--"What the-- _hell_ , are you _drawing_ me?!" His voice got high and whiny, and Yukina shot him a warning glance, as if daring him to make a move, and he froze immediately, continuing through grit teeth, "You can't just--go around _drawing_ people without their consent--"

"Kisa-san, may I sketch you?"

"--and you can't ask for consent after the fact--"

"Kisa-san: I'm sorry, I seem to have started sketching you. May I continue?"

"--and you can't apologize in the middle of it and ask permission either!" He huffed a groan of irritation and let his head flop back, staring up at the ginkgo leaves fluttering in the breeze and wondering how he'd gotten here. A long beat of silence passed, but he no longer was bothered by the harsh scratching of a pencil across sketch paper--which in itself was grating. He let his eyes fall shut again. "…What are you doing drawing me for, anyways?"

A pause as Yukina considered the question, returning socratically, "…Is there some problem with my sketching you?"

"Yeah; that it involves you sketching me." He tilted his head just to the side, trying to catch Yukina's expression out of the corner of his eye and failing; if he wanted to gauge his mood, he'd have to break his 'pose' entirely. "…This isn't reference gathering," he reminded.

"It isn't?"

"Park dates are supposed to be like--walking hand-in-hand around the park track and picnicking on the grass and, I dunno, doing…couple-y stuff." He waved a hand flippantly. "Not napping under a tree while some creep paints your picture."

"I'm sketching you, not paint--"

" _Regardless_ , it's not this."

There was a beat of silence, before Yukina reminded glumly, "…Well you're the one who suggested this, Kisa-san."

"I _know_ ," Kisa groaned, rubbing his eyes in frustration--not at Yukina, for once, but at this whole setup. The entire date-- _day_ , not date--had been a wash from the start. He should've grit his teeth and let Yukina whisk him away to whatever trumped up idea of a proper date course he'd concocted in his head, because it was patently clear Kisa was talking out of his ass. "I know," he repeated more soberly, "…I'm sorry."

He could hear Yukina rustling with his bag beside him, and dared to turn his head; even if Yukina still wanted to draw him, Kisa was having no more of it, so what did it matter if he broke form? "Yukina…?"

The sketchbook was smoothly slipped back into Yukina's messenger bag, and he lifted the strap over his head, tightening the load until it hung at his hip as he gracefully stood in place and brushed the leaves and debris from his pants. "Let's go, Kisa-san."

"Eh? Where?"

"The last stop on our date."

* * *

Kisa didn't suppose his idea of a proper ending to a date meshed all that well with Yukina's, as apparently the guy thought a fitting end to a date was 'dinner at a middling restaurant' and not 'sex in the nearest available location.' Still, seeing as sex was very much not a viable option with present company, he guessed Yukina's alternative could have been worse.

Caught up in the thrill of drawing faces in the condensation of his glass, it took a moment before he realized he was being spoken to. "Eh?"

"I…apologized. For earlier." And fuck, the guy was _blushing_ , in the middle of a restaurant where Kisa had the gall to look bored and not entirely happy to be with the person across from him. "In the park--it was all I could think to do, and the light, it hit you perfectly, and I had my book with me and you were dozing, so I only assumed you wouldn't--"

"Geez--stop, just--all right, it's fine." He held up a hand, glancing nervously about, but the other patrons were all engrossed in their own no-doubt fascinating conversations and had no interest in eavesdropping on the debriefing of a pseudo-date between an editor and his charge. "I already bitched you out back at the park; no need to make me feel like crap twice."

"Make you…?" Yukina's brows furrowed, "I'm sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable; I really only just--"

"Can we stop talking about this now?" Kisa pressed, lifting his brows in plea, and he brought his drink to his lips just to give himself something to focus on that wasn't Yukina's concerned expression or the fact that the guy seemed completely prepared to pay the bill or that dinner like this was so beyond a middle-school couple's range--McFlurries and a shared large fry were more likely--because the moment he let himself ponder things like that was the moment he let himself consider that maybe Yukina wasn't as _new_ at this as he came off. He winced as he took a sip; his tea was watered down now. "I overreacted; I do that, a lot. It's kind of my _thing_ , having overly emotional responses to-- _situations_." He pushed the ice cubes around his glass with his straw. "It's not your fault I've got ten different complexes, so just…stop apologizing. It just reminds me what an ass I can be."

A beat, and then, "…Why do you keep saying that?"

Kisa glanced up. "Huh?"

"That…you're an ass, or a jerk, or things like that." Yukina cocked his head in curious confusion, like he was trying to figure out Kisa and just couldn't wrap his mind around him. "You've mentioned that before, I feel like, but…I don't see how anyone who's met you and spoken to you for five minutes could come to such a conclusion." He settled his chin in the palm of one hand. "You've humored me this outing today and done nothing but offer sage advice on how to improve--"

"I wouldn't call it _sage_ ," Kisa hedged.

"--and no one…who was an ass would do such things for someone like me. At best they'd leave me to figure things out on my own, and at worst they'd actively try to trip me up. You're a guide and a beacon and--I'm not sure how to put it, but you're really quite amazing--"

And before Yukina could bury Kisa even deeper, he flagged down their waitress with a sharp, "Check, please."

* * *

Yukina had won out at the restaurant, mostly because Kisa hadn't wanted to make a scene, and while the meal had hardly broken any banks, Kisa didn't like the debt hanging between them, and when Yukina pulled out his phone to call up their respective train schedules, Kisa seized the moment--and Yukina's arm--and dragged him to the curb where he held out a hand to flag down a taxi, shoving Yukina inside and barking at the driver to head towards Nakano Station. It wouldn't quite cover dinner, but it made Kisa feel better, at least.

"Wait--no, no," Yukina protested, realizing what Kisa was attempting to do, and he took turns casting frantic glances between the driver, equally confused, and Kisa. "Kisa-san, your place. Please, tell him to take us to your place--"

"Wha-- _my place_?" Kisa jumped in, voice doing that annoying _thing_ it did when he was on edge and ratcheting up an octave, and good god Yukina made it sound like he was begging Kisa to let them _go home together_ , which was exactly what it probably looked like at this point, given the brow lift the driver was giving Kisa now, and he scrambled to correct the misconception. "You idiot--you're supposed to compile those notes into something that makes more sense and start drafting. What the hell do you think we were out for today anyways?"

"I will, I will," Yukina assured him, and now the driver was getting impatient and the meter was ticking away. "Just--I'd like to see you home. It's only proper." And Kisa wanted to know just how it was _only proper_ because this _wasn't a real date_ , but he could hardly have that conversation here just now, and so he grudgingly directed the driver to his own nearest station, shooting a dark glare at Yukina that passed by unnoticed as he settled back against the cushion, seemingly relieved at having won this small victory.

Kisa let him bask in his imagined coup, figuring if worst came to worst, he could always press a few thousand yen into the guy's hand before taking his leave, to soothe his conscience. The ride passed in silence, Yukina's gaze fixed outside the window even when Kisa's wandered in his direction, and Kisa supposed that, given the driver's no doubt vivid opinion of their relationship by this point, this was for the best.

As the car drew up close to his station and he readied himself to take his leave, Yukina prodded him to take the last few turns to his apartment, reminding Kisa that it was no trouble at all ( _sure, except I'm the one planning on paying for this trip, idiot_ ) and to just give in, and after a final guilty glance at the driver, he ducked his head dutifully and urged him to take a left at the next light.

Yukina, apparently not satisfied at having done enough damage for the day, was not content to leave Kisa to scale his steps by himself, and Kisa panicked for a brief moment that the guy _really did_ intend to invite himself in for the evening--which in turn set Kisa's brain to whirring in high-gear about what that actually meant--until Yukina knocked on the driver's window and asked him to wait a moment, that he would be right back, bag slung over his shoulder as he flashed a bright smile and turned on one heel to dart after Kisa, who'd tried to take his leave while he could.

"This is ridiculous," he groused to himself, but Yukina must have heard him, leaning forward to try and meet Kisa's gaze with brows lifted in curiosity.

"What is?"

" _You_ are," he reminded, then grunted as he fished about in his bag for his apartment key, jutting out one hip to angle the bag to catch the light streaming down from the lamp hanging just over the top of the stairs. "I'm a big boy; I hardly needed an escort to my apartment."

"Ah, that's…" Yukina hedged, glancing back at the car below. "Well--I wanted to give you this, and it would've been a bit awkward with the driver, so…"

Kisa snorted incredulously, fingers finally finding purchase on his keys. "You? You actually find situations _too_ awkward? That's the craziest thing I've heard all day." He drew up short in front of his door, turning round to place his back to it and holding his free hand out. "So, what are you working up the nerve to give me, then?"

Yukina scrambled to unsnap the flap on his bag, yanking out his sketchpad and flipping forward with shaky fingers until he found the page he'd been seeking, ripping out the page with a soft _fft_ before passing it over to Kisa. With a frown, he took it by the bottom corner, angling the sketch so the soft yellow light above cast everything in a warm glow. "You…this is…"

"You moved before I could finish," Yukina complained, albeit without substantial disappointment, and Kisa could _hear_ the nervous hesitation in his voice. "I realize you weren't comfortable with having your portrait drawn, and I honestly wouldn't have done it if I'd known, but I figured maybe…if you kept it, you'd feel better about it? You're welcome to--throw it away, or do whatever you want with it--"

Unthinkingly, Kisa pulled the sketch close to his chest. "Wha-- _throw it away_?!" The mere notion, that Yukina would throw something like this away so easily, horrified Kisa to the core--how could he be so cavalier…

Yukina scratched at the back of his head, and Kisa's eye wandered to where the yellow light caught on one of his earrings. "Well--I just meant, it's yours, it's _you_ , and if you're really that disturbed by it, you should…do with it what you will." He licked his lips and nodded to the sketch. "…But I was glad to have gotten to draw that much, at least." His soft grin quirked up at one corner, belying a roguish thought passing over his mind. "I hope you'll let me do it properly next time."

And that set Kisa's cheeks to flushing--this was too much; there was a taxi waiting downstairs, a far-too-intimate (in that it wasn't at all) sketch clutched in Kisa's grasp, and an arm's length between himself and Yukina at the tail end of a day spent together doing absolutely nothing they'd set out to do and threatening to continue doing so should Kisa not wrap things up posthaste. "…We'll see," he allowed, and reminded himself it wasn't a come-on, it was just a flirtatious response to an eager young author who really needed to be on his way. "Anyways, thanks for…whatever today was."

"A date?"

"Not a date."

"Well you did say it wasn't very good for research," Yukina reminded, but he was smiling a bit superiorly, and Kisa had the strange sensation he was being humored, and he reached out with one hand, keys still clutched tightly in his grasp, to punch the guy lightly in the upper arm, setting Yukina to laughing softly, "That's not very nice, Kisa-san."

"I told you. I'm an--" But he didn't get to remind Yukina what an asshole he was, because Yukina had ducked down, quick and silent and smoother than silk to brush dry lips over Kisa's cheek, flushed from the cold, pressing just enough to leave remnants of sensation in a short line where he'd passed, before drawing back and setting his features into his familiar broad grin, cheery and upbeat as the day they'd met.

"Good night, Kisa-san."

He didn't wait for Kisa to respond--which was probably for the best, because it would have been quite some time before Kisa could form any coherent response, and the meter was still ticking away in the taxi below. He tucked the sketchbook under one arm and zipped back around the barrier down the stairs, steps ringing into the chilly night and echoing past their prime until they were drowned out by the taxi zooming away.

Kisa slumped back against the door, ignoring the coolness of the metal seeping through his clothes--it did nothing to quench the heat rising into his cheeks, the entire right side of his face feeling like he'd just been branded now. He wanted to touch it, to _prove_ what had just happened, but his arms wouldn't move, so he continued to stand there until his legs wanted to give out, until the chill of the Spring night became too much to bear, because what the _fuck_ was that, and _what the fuck was that_?

He was breathing deep and fast, and the air was starting to hurt his lungs--just as his fingers were starting to cramp where he'd clenched a fist tight, crumpling the sketch in his grip. He glanced down, studying the lines and strokes and hatching, but everything seemed so far away right now, and he needed to get inside--he needed to get inside and away from _right_ here where Yukina had been (how long ago?).

It was halfway through brushing his teeth, zombie-like in his before-bed rituals this evening, that he realized he'd forgotten to bully Yukina into letting him pay for the taxi.


	5. Chapter 5

"I realize you're really set on including this scene, Sensei, I just--" Pause. "No, no, I'm not saying it needs to be scrapped at all; I'm _saying_ it needs to be rethought. The readers aren't going to be able to grasp what you're trying to relate just from a wide-angle shot of--"

Kisa wiped one hand over his face, fighting back a groan as Morimoto-sensei chattered away in his ear, trying to explain in her gentle lilt that she really needed this scene, had planned on including it in this chapter since it came to her in a dream six months back, and couldn't Kisa just _see_ that it was going to work, was going to be perfect?

"Sensei, I really think you're too close to the problem right now to see clearly--" He rifled through a few related panels, frowning. "Why don't we move on to the resolution pane on page 16 instead and tackle this issue later?" He tried to tell himself it wasn't backing down, he wasn't having trouble handling an author--he was just redirecting her for the time being until she could see logic later. That's all it was. No, Morimoto-sensei could be difficult at times--she considered herself a veteran, and with several decent hits under her belt, Kisa couldn't blame her for wanting to follow her instincts rather than the logic of the editor who'd gotten her this far, but she wasn't unmanageable. You just had to know how to coax her and lead her to the right conclusion, to let her think she'd made the decision on her own. Authors like her were easy enough to manage; Kisa had been doing it for years.

He hadn't spoken to Yukina in a week.

It wasn't that he was avoiding the guy, honest: Morimoto-sensei had needed more hand-holding than usual with her latest chapter, and he'd had to make a day-trip to Nagoya to meet with the manager of the Nagoya Animate to discuss an autograph event for another author coming up next month, and construction going on near his apartment for the past few days had completely ruined his sleep schedule, leaving him to all but black out the minute his feet crossed the threshold.

He wasn't avoiding Yukina, he just…had a life. And other authors to worry about. And sure, Yukina was an author--an author who, all right, probably shouldn't be left on his own for this long so early in his career, or he'd forget he even _had_ a deadline (two days hence) and completely fuck up Kisa's work schedule with a lack of preparation.

But--just--what was he supposed to _do_? He'd been a good boy--he hadn't touched the goods, he hadn't seduced anyone, he hadn't implied in any way that he was open to those kinds of advances (even if he was, at least on a certain level, very _very_ open to those kinds of advances from people who looked like Yukina)--so why should _he_ be the one feeling like he'd just ruined everything when he was the victim here? 

He wasn't going to shirk his job, he was just…giving Yukina some lead, to let everything cool down. Because obviously whatever had driven Yukina to kiss him (granted, a kiss on the cheek was hardly worth this much stress) had just been a high from their outing (not a date), a moment's impulse that had for some reason manifested in physical affection. Yukina didn't _like_ him, he was just…overly touchy-feely, a bit too 'skinship'-y.

"All right…yes, all right. Then, please make the changes we discussed just now and fax me the new storyboards by Monday, all right? We can discuss the scene from before later in the week." Morimoto-sensei seemed satisfied, and Kisa dropped the receiver into its cradle with an anguished sigh.

"…Are you all right, Kisa-san?" Ricchan's voice dripped with concern, entirely too polite and unspoiled for this line of work; it usually made Kisa want to bully him good-naturedly (and maybe not-good-naturedly), but just about now, such worry was unwarranted, and he waved the guy off, whirling around in his chair and forcing himself upright. It was late enough in the day that slipping off home wouldn't raise any brows, and his jumbled thoughts demanded he make an early evening of it--maybe take a long soak in the bath with a glass of wine to calm his nerves. Things always looked a sight better with a bit of booze in the blood, after all.

"'Night, Ricchan," he called, urging his coworker to pass on his farewells to the others when they returned to the editing floor ("Ah, but tell Takano I went out to meet with an author or something~ Don't want him riding my ass for cutting out early." " _Eh_?! But--I can't _lie_ for you--oi! Kisa-san!"), and once safely inside the elevator as the doors closed slowly behind him, he allowed himself a soft sigh of relief.

What the hell was he doing, getting so worked up over this? So a mangaka had gotten a little too friendly with an editor--cultivating a healthy relationship based on mutual respect and perhaps with a sprinkling of genuine friendship was something to be appreciated, provided you could healthily navigate the waters of a working relationship while trying to maintain a private one. If you let yourself get too close with the people who it was your job to effectively guide to put out their best work, then you ran the risk of holding back your true opinions for fear of offending them. But--there were no rules that he was aware of that prohibited editors and authors being friends. Hell, Hatori was in charge of one of his oldest childhood pals, as Kisa understood it, and Yoshikawa Chiharu was one of their top sellers. Obviously it hadn't hurt sales in their corner.

…So the problem was just with Yukina, it seemed. Kisa waved weakly at the girls at reception, ducking a polite nod as he muttered a soft, chagrined _o saki~_ and ducked out the sliding front doors. They tittered politely at him, waving back enthusiastically.

Yeah…what if he'd gone out with one of his other authors? What if he'd strolled the campus of Mitsuhashi University with Morimoto-sensei last Sunday instead of gallivanting around yuppie Tokyo with Yukina? What if she'd chuckled in that maternal way she did when she found Kisa adorable (it didn't help that she had two little girls at home and so most _everyone_ younger than her seemed like a child) and kissed his cheek while ruffling his hair?

Was it just because he found Yukina ( _tall and slender and exquisitely proportioned with perfect teeth and skin and--_ ) attractive? His subconscious saw Yukina as a potential sexual partner (subconscious-- _subconscious!_ ) and so now his brain was on overdrive, was that it? 

Whatever the hell the issue was--it needed to be resolved soon. Or this whole project was going to come crashing down on his--

"Ah!" Kisa jumped in place, giving a little help as his pants pocket vibrated insistently, demanding his attention, and with his heart in his throat, he stepped off out of the flow of traffic on the sidewalk and felt around until his fingers found the pocket he'd stowed his phone in. Scrambling to pull it out, he frowned at the name on the receiver, feeling his throat go dry.

Yukina, of course. The guy always managed to call with the worst timing, like he could _sense_ when Kisa would be most ruffled by his attentions. He hedged for a moment, hesitating to answer, then gave himself a swift mental kick to the rump and flipped open his phone, huffing out, "Yes?" before his voice did anything stupid like shoot up an octave or break pitch with nerves.

 _"Good evening, Kisa-san!"_ Same old, same old--just as irritatingly chipper as always in that manner that _shouldn't_ grate but did, just because such eternally optimistic people were, well, _irritating_. Or perhaps that was just Kisa's way of looking at things, he had to allow; Yukina was young, beautiful, and probably popular as anything. What did he have to be jaded about? Maybe once he hit 30 himself and that inhuman glow to him started to fade away, he'd see things through more appropriately-hued glasses.

He slumped back against a light pole, letting his head drop against the cool metal. "Hey."

 _"Are you doing well?"_ What the hell was this, a casual conversation? Had Kisa _imagined_ the previous weekend? Their not-date? That out-of-the-blue kiss?

"Huh? I…guess…" Fuck this awkwardness, he was 30 years old! He clenched the phone tighter, closer to his ear, reminding himself of the glass of merlot and floral-scented bubble bath detergent waiting at home. "Did you need something?" He grimaced at the way he came off; if nothing else, he was this newbie author's editor, his gatekeeper guarding the gate to his audience, and the guy deserved some respect. "It's just--I just got off work and I was headed home, so if this can wait until Monday--"

 _"Oh--oh I'm terribly sorry! I should have called earlier, shouldn't I?"_ Never mind that he shouldn't have been calling Kisa's cell phone _at all_ , but Kisa had accepted that there were some things that were never going to make it through Yukina's skull. _"Yes--never mind! I didn't even consider that--"_

" _Yukina_ ," Kisa snapped, then bit his lip to remind himself that just because he was a pessimistic loner who needed to lighten up sometimes it was no excuse to take his irritation out on…well, actually, Yukina _was_ the source of the irritation, so… "What do you need?" he settled on.

 _"Ah, I just…"_ And _now_ he chose to get cagey? _Now_ he couldn't be bothered to be his usual excitable self and lay at Kisa's feet whatever new treat he'd drummed up today? _"I realize we weren't supposed to meet again for a couple more days, but--I've actually got quite a head-start on my draft, I've finished quite a bit since our date--"_ Kisa couldn't bring himself to correct the guy for the fiftieth time. _"--so I was going to see if I could bring my work to Marukawa, perhaps get some preliminary feedback before we met up again…"_

He trailed off, obviously lost as to what to do now, and Kisa wanted to bang his head sharply against the pole he was leaning against. _Why_ did this have to happen to him? Why had he answered, even? Dedication to one's job only went so far, and some time apart for the two of them could only do them both good. Regretting his decision before he'd even made it, he sighed loudly enough that he hoped Yukina could hear how very put-out he was about this situation. "…Yeah, all right. Fine--where?"

* * *

He'd been resolute that it be a public place. Well, as resolute as he could be without outright saying _and nowhere private; I don't want you trying anything funny again_. Yukina wasn't an easy guy to side-step, but he'd at least managed to subtly suggest they meet at a Starbucks near Iidabashi station since Yukina had (not-so-coincidentally, Kisa suspected) already been on his way to the office when he'd called.

Yukina nearly tripped over himself offering to buy Kisa's drink, and after a long sidelong glance, Kisa shrugged, grabbed the saddlebag from off Yukina's shoulder, and rattled off an order before shuffling off to track down a free table. "The panels are in the file with the band around it--not the sketchbook," he was reminded as he hurried out of earshot, and he waved back his understanding, spotting a couple just leaving a short two-person booth in the back corner.

Kisa settled in with a relieved huff, resting his eyes for a moment while blindly piecing through Yukina's bag, fingers drawing back the soft leather flap to dip inside and grab a fat file, bursting with Yukina's creative genius, as it were.

He brushed a lock of hair behind his ear and straightened the file before him, propping his chin up in the palm of his free hand with an elbow on the table and already bemoaning that bath-and-wine combination this meeting was pushing back. 

What the hell was he doing here, Yukina's latest chapter in his hands and the guy himself buying something overly sweet and caffeinated, waiting to bear down upon Kisa? He was a good editor--a damn good one--and dedicated to boot, but there were _limits_ , and he was pretty sure this was going above and beyond. He'd suffered much worse than an innocent peck on the cheek from amorous suitors who overstepped their bounds, but none of them had been his client, and all of them had been _obvious_ about what they wanted, not…this airy, oblivious distance that Yukina affected, like he went around kissing anyone and everyone--

…Oh _shit_ , what if he _did_ do that? What if all of this stress and frustration was moot, Yukina just having bestowed upon him an inappropriately affectionate 'thank you' and nothing more? If he brought it up--how embarrassed would he be when Yukina realized what sorts of thoughts had flitted through his mind as he pondered the implications?

His brows furrowed in disappointment, and he stifled a low groan--as a shadow passed over him and he caught the soft _clack_ of a latte cup being settled before him. "It's hot; please be careful."

He leaned back against the booth and rubbed his eyes, grimacing. "I know it's hot; that's why I asked for a latte."

If Yukina took offense at his tone, he didn't express as much. "I would have thought you'd order something sweet again…"

Before Kisa caught himself, he shrugged and reached for the cup, bringing it to his lips to blow softly over the rim. "Guess you don't know me as well as you think."

Yukina just laughed, genuinely amused for some reason, and he nodded as he stirred his straw around in what looked to be some sort of frosty concoction, a rich, deep brown betraying the chocolate--or coffee, or both--content. "I won't argue that point."

Kisa eyed him for a moment before letting the idle comment pass, and he pushed away his latte to let it cool while he pieced through the drafts. He let out a low whistle as he rifled through the pages, brows coming together in worry. "Holy shit…there's gotta be like…two chapters' worth of panels here--maybe even three if we pace it right." He glanced up; Yukina had his gaze directed across the lounge area to a couple settled on a low love-seat, chatting animatedly. "You did all this in a _week_?" Yukina just quirked his brows in response, sipping contentedly on his coffee drink, and Kisa shook his head, paging through the file's contents. "…You're either crazy or amazing. Or you have no life."

"I was inspired after we went out last week," Yukina clarified simply, and Kisa panicked for one wild moment, heart leaping up into his throat in worry that Yukina might choose this inopportune moment to go off on some tangent that ultimately brought them back around to why the hell he'd kissed Kisa--but instead, Yukina simply reached across the table to tap the page Kisa had just turned to. "That's one of the bridges overlooking the Sumida, see? I even added--" He moved his finger down to the corner of the frame, "--us, in a little boat!"

Kisa squinted, frowning. "…Lucky me, a microscopic cameo in a newbie's hack manga…" He made sure to gentle the bite in his voice to spare Yukina's feelings, irritated somehow that this was becoming second-nature. "I can't believe some of the detail you've put into some of these panels. You could just use stock images for half of the--" But Yukina was already waving him off.

"I couldn't help it--it just came spilling out. And--I wanted to get it all out as quickly as possible; I don't think I've showered in days--" And he looked so serious and dedicated here that Kisa couldn't help the snort of amusement that escaped at the image of a disheveled Yukina Kou hunched over his drawing board and surrounded by a trash heap of conbini bentous and half-empty PET bottles. "--I mean, of course I showered before coming here," he quickly corrected, flushing. "But--I think…it was good. Going out with you."

Kisa ignored the last half of the sentence and shifted in place, hunching his shoulders and leaning in to properly peruse the work, effectively shutting Yukina up.

The thing was…it was _good_. Yukina had always had sheer artistic talent, but the guy soaked up critique like a sponge as well, like nothing in the world made him happier than for Kisa to tell him the flow between two panels sucked and to fix it or have the whole scene trashed. Always eager to please, he seldom made the same mistake twice, and Kisa would confess that more often than not, the repeated mistakes were his own fault for not effectively getting across _why_ they were mistakes in the first place. In an odd way--Yukina made him a better editor, helped him hone his skills, like a whetstone. A tall, sexy whetstone, who smelled like some kind of spicy musk today, fragrance detectable even over the thick scent of coffee permeating the shop--

"…So?"

"Eh?"

Yukina's lips twitched in amusement, and he nodded to the page Kisa had paused on--not to give it a more thorough looking over but because he'd spaced out. "Is it…all that terrible?" He bit his lip in a show of worry and flicked his gaze down to the pages spread out beneath Kisa's graphite-stained fingertips. "I realize it was a lot to take on all at once, and I know I should have spoken with you before getting so far ahead of myself but, honestly--" He brushed his fingers through his hair, settling back in his chair and laughing dryly at himself, "--I couldn't help myself. I don't know what came over me, but…" He nodded to the file. "There you have it."

And Kisa wondered, not for the first time, if they were still talking about the panels.

He cleared his throat and snapped the file shut, carefully rebinding it with quiet monotony. "Well, if you're willing to part with this for the weekend, then, I'll get an early start on it so that we'll have something of value to discuss Monday." He flashed a glance at Yukina, sipping on his frozen drink again and looking nonchalant as anything, and felt a sudden sharp pang of guilt when he registered the weight of the folder in his hand as he moved to slide it into his own bag.

The heaviness was a physical manifestation of Yukina's tireless efforts to make his way in the world of shoujo manga, and he relied on Kisa to guide him, not shy away from every affectionate gesture from a guy Kisa knew fully well to be the type to dole them out at every opportunity. More so--he was Yukina's elder, not just an editor but a _sempai_ here in many ways, and he may have sucked at that back in school, but now he needed to get his shit together and not abandon his protege just because of a few butterflies in his stomach.

He cleared his throat. "Right then. We'll meet again Monday, around noon should be fine." He stood in place, taking a mental step back when Yukina mirrored his movements, but quickly reminded himself to calm the fuck down, and he took a breath. "I suppose meeting here again is as good as anything, unless you'd prefer someplace else?" Yukina shook his head, sliding the strap of his bag over his head. It bounded lightly against his hip as he shifted around, no longer burdened by the heavy file Kisa had taken up.

By the time they'd disposed of the remnants of their drinks and made their way out of the cafe, the sun had set, casting the sky above in deep purples and navies, the glow of the city never letting it wax quite to black no matter the time of day, and Kisa resolutely did not notice--or despair--when Yukina fell into silent step beside him as he plodded along toward the station. 

From an outsider's perspective, Kisa found the situation almost humorous; the difference in their heights meant that Yukina's longer strides often had him a good meter ahead of Kisa after a few paces, at which point he would consciously pause and wait for Kisa to catch up, and then it would start all over again.

They passed through the ticket gates--shit, it figured they'd be on the same line--and shuffled down the stairs to the platforms below. Kisa wordlessly made his way to the far end of the platform, settling back against a pillar to wait for his train to arrive (just two more minutes, two more minutes…) and drumming up the courage to bid Yukina farewell in what he hoped didn't come out sounding like a desperate plea for escape from the awkward atmosphere. 

Chancing a quick glance over at Yukina, he noticed with rising hope that Yukina seemed to be studying the monitors for the trains going the opposite direction--thank god, they could soon part ways and be none the worse for wear. He licked his lips and tried, as nonchalantly as possible, "You're heading out on the other track?" A nod. "I guess this is goodbye for tonight then." Excellent--he didn't sound strained at all. He was almost home free--they would never talk about that not-date again, or at least never touch on anything other than the _research_ aspect of it, and Kisa would simply be more on guard in the future, heading these little notions of Yukina's off at the pass. He patted his satchel. "I'll fax you what I can over the weekend so you can start going over my edits, then we'll reconvene on Monday to go through everything together." Yukina was still studying the time table, and Kisa frowned, getting the distinct sense that he was being ignored. "…Yukina?"

The guy didn't seem to hear him, and the train was barreling into the station now, brakes screeching as it drew to a halt and sending a whoosh of air whipping up around them both. Kisa's frown grew pinched and annoyed now--and what was with this guy? Kisa hadn't said anything, hadn't done anything; he'd behaved himself quite well, doling out compliments he would've typically kept to himself. Why was the guy choosing now of all times to get _moody_?

"…Bye then, I guess," he muttered, mostly to himself, and slipped to the side of the car to allow an old woman to toddle off onto the platform before stepping on behind her. He turned and gripped the bar by the door to steady himself, nodding politely when he realized Yukina had turned to face him, one hand raised to wish him farewell.

The trilling bell sounded its digital melody to indicate that the doors were about to close, and Yukina opened his mouth.

"…Aren't you going to ask me about the other day?"

Kisa's blood chilled in his veins, and his grip about the metal bar tightened, knuckles going white. "…Eh?"

The doors hissed softly as they eased shut, but Kisa still caught the barely perceptible clarification before he was shuttled away into the dark tunnels beneath Tokyo: "Don't you want to know why I kissed you?"


	6. Chapter 6

"All right, I suppose that about wraps up…" Takano paused, flipping back to the previous page in his notes and glaring at his writing over his glasses, squinting in disapproval as his lips formed a thin line. "Ah, right. We still don't have the free gift planned for the June issue. Anyone have any ideas to throw out?" He glanced around the room, and was naturally met with the usual averted eyes, frustratingly calm grins, or trembling masses of nerves. Which only left Kisa, distracted by a chipped nail he was about to bite down to the quick. "Kisa--you handle it."

"Eh?!" he squawked in offense. "But--why me?!"

Takano shrugged. "Because I feel like telling you to take care of it. Get one of your people to doodle something for a pencil board and be done with it." He waved one hand and peered back down at his notes, already moving on to the next order of business. "That newbie of yours--he could stand some promotion. Have him draft something and get it approved by the end of this month." Kisa opened his mouth to further protest, but Takano's sharp glance silenced him, and he slumped into his chair, powerless to defend against the onslaught of his editor-in-chief.

It wasn't so much that he particularly objected to the workload--though this added source of stress was certainly not going to help the microdisaster he was focusing the majority of his time these days on dealing with: one of his other authors, a yearling who'd just wrapped up a one-volume piece, seemed to have worked herself into a corner and would need an almost complete rewrite despite having finished three chapters' worth of storyboards. No, this was difficult--and annoying--but not unmanageable, and truth be told, Kisa had juggled far more unforgiving workloads in the past and with more finesse.

Now, though, it was more…the very thing he'd been trying to avoid for the past few weeks: letting things between Yukina and himself escalate to a level at which working without issue with the guy was becoming virtually impossible. Kisa was more than capable of being professional--but when his clients started doing, well, exactly what Yukina was doing…that was where things got _complicated_.

Or at least, that's where he assumed they got complicated. This was kind of virgin territory for Kisa--he'd never had to deal with an author throwing themselves at him before (well, okay, _occasionally_ , but letting them know just why Kisa would never find himself attracted to them generally put them off easily enough), and now that he was here, being tossed and thrown about in the choppy waters of what had once been more or less blissfully calm seas between the two, he was starting to feel a little sick, frantically searching for a way to make this all go away.

Usually when guys got too familiar with him and he wanted to give them the slip, he just…stopped answering their texts, surrounded himself with new suitors at his haunts, made sure the guys knew--and accepted--that he wasn't going to be receptive to their advances anymore, and nine times out of ten this did the trick with minimal incident. He wasn't confrontational--he was…the fade-to-black type. Just let things dissolve as they would, and you never had to endure that awkward _it's not you, it's me_ stage.

But what were you supposed to do when the person you were trying to avoid, who was giving you all this unwanted (well, not unwanted--which was kind of the problem) attention, was someone you needed to see, needed to involve yourself with, needed to be open and frank with and slap upside the head on occasion to get them to see that no, you don't need three pages of exposition to explain why your protagonist's love interest was being an asshole the previous chapter?

Fuck, he was acting like a teenager--and he knew it.

There was trying to be subtle and discreet about navigating your relationship with someone you were pretty sure had a crush on you (that you _could not_ return, even if you'd wanted to), and then there was what Kisa had been doing: outright avoiding Yukina.

He'd canceled their Monday meeting--via text, of course--professing an emergency meeting of his own called by Takano, which had actually turned out to be a rousing fifteen rounds of Solitaire on his computer and reorganizing his desktop, followed by faxing Yukina the rest of the changes to the drafts he'd received at their last meeting.

He'd reasoned to himself, initially, that this was all Yukina's fault--that he was the one going and deliberately making things _weird_ between them, when couldn't he understand that Kisa was, essentially, his boss, the person he needed to curry favor with, not attempt to seduce (not that those were always mutually exclusive, Kisa reasoned as Devil's Advocate)? And Kisa had to honestly question his taste if Yukina's idea of a potential partner was a 30-year-old midget with an attitude who hadn't had a serious relationship in--forever, really. What was it about him that Yukina could _really_ find attractive? When you looked like Yukina--you could afford to have discerning tastes, and youth certainly didn't excuse thinking that _Kisa_ was worthy of such attentions.

Kisa rubbed the heel of his palm into his eyes, groaning softly to himself as he filed out of the meeting room with his groupmates.

Except this wasn't Yukina's fault. It was his, and his alone--it was his fault for not making himself clear when he first suspected something, his fault even more so now for not picking up a phone, opening up an e-mail, doing _something_ to set Yukina straight and instead hiding himself away, worried to even drop the guy a line for fear that he'd take the opportunity to bring up their relationship (or lack thereof).

He slumped into his chair at his desk, tuning out the soft murmuring babble as Takano reviewed a promotional plan with Hatori at the end of the desk clump and Ricchan to his left droned into the receiver, discussing changes to a manuscript with an author it sounded like.

Kisa reluctantly picked up his own receiver, closing his eyes and taking in the low buzzing in his ear for one final moment before breathing in deep and releasing slowly, swallowing as he mechanically keyed in Yukina's phone number.

As the digital beeping piped over the receiver, Kisa allowed himself the faint hope that perhaps Yukina wouldn't even answer--it was the middle of the day, maybe he was out running errands; maybe he was taking a shower (nope, bad thought); maybe he was slaving over his manuscript (that he was already a good chapter ahead with) in another room and wouldn't catch the ringing phone in time.

He was already halfway through drafting a mental script to repeat for the voicemail system--when of course, Yukina at last answered with a chirping, " _Hello, Kisa-san!_ " like he'd just been waiting dutifully for Kisa to contact him, the 'faithful puppy' image as strong as ever in his mind.

Kisa's mouth was dry, and he struggled to remember his script, wincing at the sharpness to his voice that was apparent now when he spoke. "Ah, yes--hello." Fantastic start. "Umm, this is Kisa from--" Well fuck, now he sounded like an idiot--Yukina obviously knew who was calling and was more than intent on utterly destroying the carefully cultivated fabric of societal interaction that dictated Kisa use a set vocabulary with the guy and not converse with him like they were old buddies. "I--are you free to talk right now?" There, that was a bit more firm footing.

" _Of course_ ," Yukina returned easily, dashing Kisa's last line of defense and ensuring that they would have to have a civil conversation now.

"Ah, that's…right, so--Takano-san suggested--" And fuck this _Takano-san suggested_ crap; he was Yukina's editor here, not Takano, and if he hadn't been so very ruffled by his interactions with Yukina of late, he might have spoken up in the meeting and suggested of his own volition that Yukina be given this opportunity, so he reminded himself that he had a nice pair of functioning testicles and cleared his throat. "The June issue of _Emerald_."

" _Yes?_ "

"We need someone to handle the _furoku_ \--" _Just barrel on through before he can interrupt._ "--and I know you're already well into your next chapter, ahead of schedule, so I thought it might be good to take advantage of the freedom you've got at the moment and do a bit of promotion at the same time by having you draw up an idea for a pencil board or--"

" _Seriously?!_ " Yukina's voice, it was obvious even over the phone line, pitched up an octave, and the glee seemed almost palpable. " _Oh--yes, of course! I didn't think I was--_ " He paused, seeming to second-guess himself. " _Anyway, absolutely! Anything I can do, I'm glad to help! What should I do?_ "

And that was that, it seemed. Kisa spent the next ten minutes explaining to Yukina the parameters of the project as well as schedules and timelines to keep to, a sight more comfortable in this familiar arena of _editor and nothing more_ than the role Yukina seemed intent on pushing him towards. But if Yukina had any such ulterior motives to his conversations and meetings with Kisa, he didn't reveal them, and even now, Kisa would have been hard-pressed not to consider that perhaps Yukina had some sort of dissociative identity disorder and that his markedly more charming alternate personality was the one making rather unsubtle attempts at sweeping Kisa off his feet while Yukina the Mangaka tried to make a name for himself under Kisa's tutelage.

I was just that…Yukina was being--frustratingly _normal_ again, and Kisa was getting that sick feeling in his stomach once more that he was blowing this whole thing out of proportion, until he reminded himself that Yukina was adept at pasting on a calm facade, cleverly masking his underlying emotions and intentions until he saw fit to shove them in Kisa's face at inopportune moments, waving his true meaning just out of reach and leaving Kisa to fester in discomfort and uncertainty. He wasn't a puppy--he was a nasty, dirty-playing tomcat who liked to tease his prey before ending their miserable existence (because somehow in Kisa's messed-up world, being the object of Yukina Kou's affections was a _miserable existence_ ).

This sucked on every level imaginable--Kisa wasn't able to do his job adequately, he was on pins and needles just dialing a number or firing off an e-mail, he was in very real danger of developing a stress ulcer from the whole ordeal, and he hadn't gotten laid in weeks now because--well, all right, that was probably his own doing, but Yukina had done a fabulous job of ensuring Kisa's weekends were either full of _him_ or set aside to allow Kisa to recharge his batteries--or both.

And it wasn't fair. He was nearly ten years this guy's senior, his superior in the field, and he had no business being intimidated by a puffed up prince, jumping at shadows when if he simply put his foot down, everything could be solved--and before he could stop himself, he was opening his mouth and blurting out, "About the other day--"

But he froze, mouth going dry--and what was he going to say? _I do want to know why you kissed me_? Of course not--that was the _last_ thing he wanted to know. Quite the contrary, he wanted Yukina to _stop asking why he wasn't asking_ , because what the hell business was it of his if Kisa reacted to some spontaneous show of affection? Was Yukina that thick, that he couldn't take a hint and discern that Kisa's lack of response was, in itself, a response of sorts?

If he spoke up now, if he drew attention to whatever this was between them…would he be digging his own grave?

He swallowed thickly, then smoothly shifted the conversation with, "…I'm sorry I had to cancel our meeting. Takano-san can be a real hard-ass..."

" _Mmm, it's quite all right! I understand you've other clients to attend to,_ " was the bland response, unruffled and without a hint of disappointment. A clever cover-up, if Kisa had ever heard one.

"Yeah…" he allowed, then began to tie up the conversation; they'd passed the point of playing at polite ignorance long ago. "Well, I just needed to let you know about this new project, so…I suppose I'll let you get to it then." And before Yukina could jump in with some clever quip at the close, Kisa sputtered, "Goodbye," and hung up, breathing hard and fast and feeling sick.

This couldn't go on--which usually meant Kisa was going to wind up making very bad decisions to bring the whole thing to a head very soon.

* * *

Blessedly, Kisa's life remained Yukina-free for the rest of the work week, granting him rein to pour himself wholly into sorting out the tangled mess that had become Morimoto-sensei and Sekihara-sensei's newest drafts. Sekihara-sensei's was looking worlds better than it had before he'd had to calmly explain to her that it was absolute shit, and Morimoto-sensei had finally come around to seeing logic and had drawn up something Kisa could work with.

He'd sent off a tentative e-mail Friday morning, testing the waters to gauge how far Yukina had come with his project and assess where he was with inking his panels, and to his irritation, the guy hadn't responded. It was hardly that Kisa wasn't used to authors attempting to give him the slip or just simply being unavailable, but when he stopped to think about it…it was the first time he'd ever tried to contact Yukina and not received an almost immediate response. Even as he was bundling up for the evening and sliding his bag over his shoulder, his cell phone still sat quiet and unassuming on his desk, taunting him and urging him to just try calling the guy.

"…Like hell," he muttered to no one, and slipped out before Ricchan could come back from making copies and hold him back with idle parting conversation.

As he made his way home, crushed against the railing on the bench seat he'd managed to secure by a salaryman nodding off at his side, he reviewed Morimoto-sensei's most problematic panels once more, not entirely satisfied with the end-product but lacking any motivation to try and improve it further. Everything with Morimoto-sensei almost seemed to be in one ear and out the other these days; she fielded his commentary, but only returned an occasional, "I suppose…" or "Yes, but…", insisting that her vision be presented undiluted in a manner reminiscent of a green first-timer than the veteran he'd guided through a dozen successful volumes over several series.

The cynical side of Kisa pointed out that it was less likely she was losing her touch than that Kisa's point of view was being skewed, leaving him ineffective as an editor--and that thought unsettled him more than did the thought that he was going to have to bring this up with Takano next month if she didn't step up her game. If the editor-in-chief looked at her panels and saw no issues…well, it didn't bear considering.

His foot caught on a crack in the pavement, sending him stumbling down the shallow stairs facing the entrance/exit to his station, and he grumbled a few choice phrases to himself as he hitched his bag higher. He needed a drink--and something sweet to snack on. He'd been living on nothing but conbini dinners for the past week now, despite knowing he was digging himself a dangerous hole, but he could situate himself back on a proper diet Monday. Tonight was for Haagen-dazs.

Ducking into the Family Mart near his apartment complex, he loitered about in the back, perusing the ice cream bank, for a few long minutes before eventually settling on a cold soba dish and a single serving of over-priced caramel swirl, sure to satisfy his sweet tooth, passing the endcap of spirits with a disdainful sniff--he had a six-pack at home that would go better with soba than the scotch. No Yukina, no Morimoto-sensei, no Takano, no Marukawa. Just him, his noodles, and a couple hundred calories of heaven washed down with one of the cans of Asahi chilling in his fridge.

_BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ_

Kisa leaned forward, letting his head bang against his front door as he eased his key into the lock and resolutely ignored the phone buzzing insistently in his pocket. " _No_ ," he answered to no one--though it did nothing to silence his phone.

_BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ_

_BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ_

He sighed audibly as he pushed into his dark apartment, flicking the entryway light on with one hand while he hung his satchel on the coatrack with the other.

_BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ_

"Fine…" he yielded, shoving his hand into the pocket and wrangling out the still-buzzing device, glaring at the caller ID flashing on the screen. "…You've gotta be kidding me." He mouthed a few curses to himself before flipped the clamshell design open, not even feigning politeness. "What?" He was off the clock; he could afford to come off like an asshole if he wanted.

" _Good evening, Kisa-san!_ " was the chirped response. " _This is Yukina--_ "

"I can read my caller ID," Kisa reminded him, shuffling into the kitchen and slinging the plastic bag up on his preciously spare counter space; the ice cream needed to be chilled right away. "Did you need something?"

" _Ah well--I know it's after hours--_ " _Then why did you call?_ Kisa wanted to snap back, but restrained himself; his bad mood was no excuse to further sour the conversation. " _\--but I received your e-mail earlier and…_ "

There was a lengthy pause, and Kisa pulled the phone away, frowning at the screen to be sure he hadn't been cut off. "Yukina?"

" _Kisa-san_ ," he started, voice a bit breathy and strained, " _Can I--would it be all right if I--that is, ah, my panels?_ "

Kisa frowned as he tried to find a place to shove the soba bentou into his refrigerator, exchanging it for one of the beers he'd been looking forward to. "What about them?"

And now Yukina seemed infinitely more sure of himself, like he'd been fishing about for a topic of conversation and Kisa had graciously lent him one. " _My panels--I realize you couldn't help having to cancel our meeting earlier this week--_ " Kisa's stomach turned with guilt. " _-but I really could use some advice on this one part…_ " He trailed off again, hope coloring his voice, and Kisa grimaced. He hated beating around the bush like this--why the hell did Yukina always insist on using such dirty tactics in their interaction? Why couldn't he just come out and _say_ what he wanted?

Kisa was having none of it, and he flippantly suggested, "Then fax me your draft sheets again, or we can meet up on Mon--"

" _Can it be now?_ " Yukina interrupted, a bit wildly, and he quickly clarified in tones more frantic than Kisa was accustomed to hearing in that musical lilt of his, " _It's only--I'd like to use the weekend to finish up, and it's just a short segment, but I really think it would be easier to discuss this in person--and I promise not to take up your evening, really perhaps fifteen minutes would be all…_ " He audibly gulped across the line, and Kisa blinked a few times in shocked confusion; this guy, who was always so put-together and stringing Kisa along, playing him, was nervous? " _I realize it's sudden, and I'm sure you have other plans..._ "

He dropped the matter again, leaving it in Kisa's hands, and he wanted to laugh. _Plans_. He hadn't made _plans_ in weeks--and fuck, he really _had_ to be getting old if the fact that he hadn't prompted someone to take him home in nearly a month now wasn't the thing causing him the most stress right now.

He wiped a hand over his face, sighing. "Listen--Yukina, I understand your impatience, but I just got home and I really don't feel like going out again--"

" _Then--I'll come over to your place!_ " he offered, and the balls on this guy continued to amaze Kisa daily. Who just _invited_ themselves over to the home of someone they were locked in a very strange cat-and-mouse relationship with? Obviously, if anyone, Yukina would've been such a person.

Kisa's voice was growing strained with irritation as he reminded, "You…don't even know where I live." A taxi ride home through dark streets was nothing like trying to find a building by foot, after all. It was a little pathetic, listening to Yukina stumble through the conversation like a bull in a china shop, trying and failing at subtly suggesting they meet in person, somewhere-- _any_ where, the locations growing more and more private by the moment.

And Kisa's patience was wearing thin--he was tired, exhausted from dealing with this, with _Yukina_ , the guy always behaving so cryptically and threading tension into their relationship where there ought to be none. He couldn't be the editor he knew he'd trained to be always walking on eggshells around Yukina--and he didn't _want_ to be that. More than he was worried about whatever it was Yukina was trying to push them to be, he was worried he was sacrificing his career and that of an up-and-coming mangaka for next to nothing. Screw this.

"Fine, whatever just--I'll meet you at the station near my place…" And what would come, would come.

* * *

He descended on Yukina as soon as the guy passed the ticket barriers, desperate to avoid a repeat of the display at the station near Yukina's place--if one of his neighbors spotted him loitering here with someone who looked like Yukina at his arm, who _knew_ what they might think. Kisa didn't typically mind so much the idle chatter of the busybody housewives in his complex, but if it could be avoided, all the better.

Perhaps wanting to make up for lost time, Yukina was babbling away from the moment he set eyes on Kisa, excitedly filling him in on just how far he'd come with his little assignment before Kisa could even broach the topic himself. He'd drawn up a number of different drafts, at a loss as to which would be most appropriate, and wondered offhandedly if Kisa-san might be able to help him narrow down the options?

"Yeah, sure," he returned distantly, keeping his focus ahead, honed in on the street just before him, because if he let his mind wander, he might start thinking about the way Yukina practically _loomed_ over him, or how their sides were brushing every now and then, not just the hems of their coats, but the fingers of their hands, upper arms as they sidestepped out of the way of other passersby, hurried apologies and laughed off _no harm done_ stretching to fill in the gaps between them.

"Kisa-san?"

"Eh?" Being so directly addressed threw him off, and Kisa's head snapped up, giving him whiplash as his attention was thrown from the STOP painted in fading letters just at the intersection ahead up to Yukina's beaming features. "What?"

Yukina's voice grew thick with reproach, and he nudged Kisa tentatively with one elbow in an attempt to interject levity into their interactions. "I asked how you'd been doing--if you've been busy? You've seemed awfully…"--short, irritated, frustrated, more like an asshole than usual--"…stretched, lately."

Yukina was nothing, if not tactful, and Kisa let his shoulders slump and rubbed at his neck. If the guy wanted to play Agony Aunt… "You'd look like shit too if you'd had to deal with the kind of crap I've had to this week." Yukina raised a brow, and--deftly leaving out any mention of Yukina's own role in making his life difficult--Kisa clarified, "Just…a few of my other authors are giving me lip, or coming in just under deadline with subpar work, and it somehow winds up always being stuff I _know_ I've gotten onto them about before, but they keep making the same mistakes." He shifted the hand up through his hair, ruffling the strands in defeat as he scuffed his shoes against the pavement. "It's not exactly the highest compliment when people you've worked with for years suddenly start backsliding." If that was even what it was and not, instead, a sign of Kisa's of skills tripping up.

"…You're very hard on yourself, aren't you, Kisa-san?" Yukina's tone was muted, softer than usual, and it didn't seem to fit him, too small for his larger than life presence.

Kisa didn't draw up short, didn't even flinch at the accusation--because well, it was true. He _was_ hard on himself--what about him merited coddling, after all? He shrugged. "I suppose so."

"…Why?"

Kisa snorted, shoving his hands in the pockets of his thin jacket. "Why not? We're all our own harshest critic--isn't that how the saying goes?"

"Well, true, but…" Kisa jumped in his skin a bit when Yukina bent down to look him properly in the face. "I feel like you're more severe than necessary…"

"It's my personality. I told you--especially when it comes to myself, I'm an ass--"

"You're not." Yukina stopped short, sneakers rasping on the concrete, and Kisa allowed himself to gain a few paces' distance before doing the same. "You're _not_ , you're--a hard-worker, that much is obvious, and talented as well, given that your hard work produces quality results. You're _good_ at your job--you give good critique, but you don't truly berate--"

A derisive snort as Kisa let this one catch. "You haven't seen me mad yet; I will tear you a new one once you're out of 'newbie' territory, just watch."

Yukina ignored him, though; he was good at doing that, Kisa was realizing. Good at letting things wash over him without issue. "You're sharp and you're clever but--you're also…kind. You humor others."

And this one caught him, setting a furrow between his brows as he took in the assessment. "I…what?"

Yukina swallowed thickly, throat bobbing, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You never asked me…why I kissed you." And shit-- _shit_ they weren't doing this here, not right now in the middle of a reasonably frequently traveled neighborhood street a block from his apartment. "So I just--assumed you didn't care for the answer."

Kisa let out a sharp keening growl and grabbed Yukina by the shoulders, steering him straight ahead and setting him at a run, guiding him the last few hundred meters to their goal. "Honestly you have _no_ sense of location when you want to have a conver--and you couldn't have thought of a _better_ place to bring that up than just when I was getting on a _train_?"

Yukina dutifully let himself be pushed along, but didn't pause his speech, reminding, "…You could have called. Or texted me. Or brought it up in one of the several conversations we've had since then?" His shoulders stiffened under Kisa's grip. "It's not as if I'm all that thick, you know."

"Could've fooled me," Kisa grumbled, settling his forehead between Yukina's shoulder blades.

It was hard to tell if Yukina was ignoring him or genuinely hadn't heard him. "I understand…the awkward situation I put you in--and I honestly didn't mean to. It was only--it was spur of the moment, and I wasn't thinking clearly, so actually, I think I respect you even more now, because you've been very professional and calm and rational--and you obviously still intend to help me succeed in my work, and--"

"Ah, _geez_ , don't you know how to shut up until we're someplace private?" Kisa finally snapped, unable to take much more of Yukina gently letting himself down, and he reached out and gripped Yukina tightly by one wrist and jerked him along the final few paces at a light jog, taking the steps to his apartment two at a time to keep Yukina from barreling into him from behind. "Honestly," he muttered, pulling out his key and guiding it to the lock with shaking fingers, "You don't know how to cut a guy a break, do you…" He didn't wait for Yukina to respond, instead flinging the door open and shoving Yukina inside one-handed.

They managed to navigate the genkan with minimal difficulty, and Kisa snapped at Yukina to head into the living room, wracking his brain to try and recall if he had any tea for guests secreted away in the back of a cupboard somewhere. "Just--make yourself comfortable on the couch and get out your panels. Takano-san doesn't like us taking overtime outside of the office."

"Ah."

The cry was short and stuttered, with no accompanying explanation, and Kisa poked his head back into the short hallway leading to the living area, calling out, "Yukina?" before slowly creeping into the living room proper.

"…I forgot the panels."

Kisa's stomach rolled. "You… _what_?"

"I mean--" Yukina slumped onto the couch, gesticulating wildly, "I had them when I called, and I put the file on the table beside my bag, but between there and here I suppose I just--forgot to bring them with me--" and here his voice grew a bit softer, more abashed, "--and honestly, it wasn't really a priority at the time--"

"Not a-- _not a priority_?" Kisa's voice went high and frantic, and he cast about the room as if expecting the missing panels to materialize, "What the hell were you thinking? You call me up, ask me to see you on my personal time for work-related matters, and then you _forget_ and waste my time because now you're here for _nothing_ \--" He cut himself off when Yukina flinched visibly under his steam-rolling complaints, the lecture obviously hitting him, harshly at that, and Kisa sighed loudly as he stomped over to the free end of the couch, slumping down and massaging his temples. "What's your _problem_? I seriously don't get you half the time…"

A beat of silence, and Yukina apologized again, voice soft and sincere, "I…really am sorry; I know your time is precious--" Except it wasn't, really, "--but we hadn't met in nearly a week and I--was _trying_ to be rational and patient and…and I'm afraid I've messed everything up now," he finished weakly, elbows resting on his knees as he stared a hole into the floor.

Kisa watched him fizzle and fade, keeping his expression blank as he took in Yukina's garbled, nigh incomprehensible confession, making every effort to parse it into some semblance of proper speech and for the most part failing. The guy wasn't making any sense at all--what was he here for, if not to look over his panels as he'd insinuated over the phone? What had so clouded his mind that he'd completely overlooked the very thing that linked them together? Why was he here _apologizing_ instead of making some effort to avoid being yet _another_ author who did nothing but cause Kisa problems?

And why was Kisa holding back saying all of these things? Since when had he been so caught up in hurting a client's _feelings_? Wasn't he an asshole (when called for)? Or was he starting to actually believe the stuff Yukina said about him?

…Shit, maybe the guy was right. Not about Kisa not being an asshole, but…maybe he _hadn't_ asked because he hadn't wanted to know the answer. Maybe he _was_ humoring Yukina, because the alternative was to treat this like a serious matter, and he worried more than was appropriate that showing any interest in caring about Yukina's reasoning might let on that…yeah, there was interest. It wasn't fair to Kisa, and it wasn't fair to Yukina.

He liked the guy--liked him a lot. Liked him maybe more than was appropriate in some ways, but was capable of reining it back to platonic affection, because that was better than nothing, right? He had to interact with the guy--may as well make the most of it. Yukina was just so _nice_ , though; easy on the eyes of course, and goofy but not so goofy that it made Kisa shrink away and shudder with secondhand embarrassment. He was young, and it showed, but he had a vibrance to him that was due in part to that sparkling personality he practically radiated but just as much to this attitude about him, the sheer insistence on seeing the bright side of everything and pushing others to the same ends. He didn't flatter Kisa for no reason; these compliments spilled from his lips because he genuinely believed them--which was, quite possibly, worse than idle flattery.

Guys like Yukina Kou didn't just fall into the laps of people like Kisa Shouta--and if he never brought the incident up again, if he never questioned it, if he never drew attention to it to remind Yukina that one night he'd gotten carried away in the moment and for some reason kissed his editor…then they neither one of them had to be hurt or embarrassed or confused or any number of other ugly emotions involved in everything Kisa wound up placing hope in.

Things never went well for him--not without consequence coming on its heels to bite him in the ass; it was an irrefutable fact. Men came and went, authors' sales went up and down, and Kisa was the only one left here in this stifling pool of mediocrity. What was the point in trying, hoping, when it was all going to come crashing down on his head, sooner or later?

…But sooner, later, it didn't matter how long Kisa put it off--Yukina was still going to be here, waiting for a question to which Kisa was certain he didn't want an answer. Closure was a good thing, right? Closure was…well, it was something decent people deserved. And Yukina was a decent guy, so even if Kisa didn't think he deserved it himself, it was nearing _cruel_ to keep putting this off now.

"…Fine." He noticed Yukina's shoulders stiffen, but barreled on through. Like pulling a bandaid. "…Why did you do it?"

Yukina turned confused eyes on him, like he didn't dare hope he was finally getting the chance. "…Eh?"

Kisa swallowed thickly, wishing he'd had the forethought to bring with him that beer sitting now lukewarm on his kitchen counter. "…Why did you kiss me?"


	7. Chapter 7

Yukina Kou was not an impulsive sort by nature. He'd always had a rather laid-back, take-things-as-they-come way of approaching life, and it had long served him well--what would come, would come, so why waste energy getting there faster if it was all the same in the end? If an opportunity presented itself, sure he'd jump on it--but to stick his neck out and take chances on long-shots less than likely to pay off? Better to work to _ensure_ they paid off than waste your time jumping the gun.

But that had been before he met someone like Kisa Shouta, someone whose very existence all but demanded _action_ and _intensity_ and _life_ and _energy_ , who drove his charges hard and expected the best, who gave as good as he got right back, a never-ending loop of expectation and achievement.

And yet, the exterior of this accomplished, responsible, put-together "adult"…was only a shell housing a self-conscious child who doubted himself and berated himself but beyond anything wanted to _be_ something, wanted to be noticed and appreciated, and to have fun in the process. Someone who occasionally appeared to have the emotional maturity of someone half his age and yet still managed to be patient and easy to work with without being patronizing.

Kisa-san…was not the kind of person Yukina had ever really been drawn to, someone whose seemingly affable outside only served as a thin veneer hiding the scared, nervous over-eager over-thinker within. He was Yukina's polar opposite, physically and mentally and emotionally--and somehow Yukina wanted to be friends with him so badly it kind of scared him.

He knew who Kisa-san was--knew that he was supposed to be a guide and a mentor, and while Yukina himself had had reasonably close relationships with his instructors, there had been a necessary wall between himself and those he looked up to that made it easier for them to tap him on the head when he stepped out of line or got ahead of himself, to reprimand him and critique him and direct him back onto the straight and narrow that would help him produce _good work_. He knew the importance of that distance, of course.

But with Kisa-san…it was different. He had that distance he kept, sure, but it wasn't the distance one might expect between a veteran editor and a fresh, newbie mangaka, nor was it there at all times, raised and lowered more like a drawbridge, granting Yukina fettered access at odd moments but still keeping a wary distance established, a polite boundary set up between himself and the rest of the world, never--at least as far as Yukina had seen--letting anyone draw in too close.

Maybe if it had been that constant stony wall, a fortress Kisa-san barricaded himself behind and threw out instructions, knocking Yukina soundly on the nose and reminding him that fraternizing outside of their work relationship was not only inappropriate but ill-advised, maybe then it would've been different. But this kind of temptation, waving the threat of friendship with this curiously contrasting person over Yukina's head…

It kind of made Yukina want to break that boundary. See if he could slip in, silent and unexpected, cross the borders and sidle up to close the distance before Kisa-san could move away again and close himself back up. It made him want to do what others seemingly couldn't, to be someone to whom Kisa opened himself up--not just a client or charge, and sure it was a long-shot, laughable at best and foolish at worst, a clear sign of conceit, because why should he be special? But…still, there was a gnawing urge that grew more demanding by the day with each passing meeting and text-message and phone conversation. He wanted to be there, to be inside the walls and see what other fascinating details Kisa-san kept hidden away for fear of being judged.

And then he'd managed it--he'd drawn up close, snuck over the barriers and into Kisa-san's personal space where he couldn't hide anymore, but suddenly he was _too close_ and Kisa-san was _right there_ , and he couldn't shake the feeling, the urge that he had to _do_ something with this privilege he'd gained, something to make it count, to prove to Kisa-san just how close he'd come, how serious he was about Kisa-san, some sort of a reminder--

So he'd kissed him.

"Why did you kiss me?" Kisa-san asked him, not with a tone of curiosity or questioning, just abject defeat and acceptance, like Yukina had pushed him to the brink and this was all he had left to choose now, and sure Yukina had wanted, quite desperately, for Kisa-san to acknowledge him, that had been the whole _point_ , but…not like this. He'd wanted Kisa-san to be as curious about this person who'd managed to pull in close and tight as Yukina was about the way Kisa-san closed himself off when he seemed to terribly fascinating. He hadn't wanted the guy to just put up new barriers because the old ones obviously weren't impenetrable enough.

The way he'd raised his brows in a gesture of _Well?_ when Yukina hadn't responded quickly enough was a bit more familiar, like he was waiting for Yukina to explain just why his protagonist was making Choice A rather than Choice B at a particularly important juncture, and Yukina wanted to laugh--because how the hell had his life, over the course of only a few months, become _so_ like a shoujo manga series?

 _Why did you kiss me?_ \--he'd been waiting for that question for what felt like ages. Maybe he hadn't been ready when he'd done it (he shuddered to think how he might have tripped over himself to explain it on Kisa-san's stoop with a taxi driver honking irritably for him on the street below), but by now…by now he'd had plenty of time to think about it, to come to terms with it, and it really all just boiled down to borders and barriers in the end, didn't it?

But it was one thing to rationalize it all to himself, and another to explain it to the one person whose thoughts truly mattered when it came down to it, and now that Kisa-san was here, the question posed, and waiting for a response…it was hard, and he swallowed a thick lump forming in his throat, reminding himself _don't screw this up_ , because Kisa-san could be harsh when he thought you'd botched something royally.

"Kisa-san…" he started, grounding himself with the name and the knowledge that Kisa-san was here, sitting next to him, asking the question even if he didn't seem all that keen to know the answer, "You've seen my dialogue; I'm no good with words." A soft huff of air from his left heartened him as Kisa released a short, dry chuckle of agreement. "Just--sometimes it's hard, or even impossible, to say what you feel, to put it into words, and so--you do something else to express it, you draw or paint it, or--or play it through an instrument, or sometimes you just--kiss someone--"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kisa-san's shoulders tense, then slowly release, slumping in defeat, and the rest of the carefully crafted words, a treatise on how artists fall hard and fast and creatively at that, stalled on his tongue. The wind gone from his sails, Kisa-san capitalized on the moment, turning a strained expression on him with lips pursed in a manner that screamed _time to be adult about this_.

"Yukina, you can't…" he started weakly, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it. "It's important that we--I mean, we're already closer than we--" And he couldn't seem to phrase his words satisfactorily, starting and stopping before he got more than a few words into a new train of thought, each new beginning coming out sounding more frustrated than the last until he finally latched desperately onto, "What you're--what you think you're feeling, it's just--just the excitement of accomplishment, because your work's doing well and--that's a good thing, it's great, _sure_ , but it's not…" He waved a hand between them. "It's not something that should have you…just, going around kissing virtual strangers on the spur of the moment--" He grimaced here, like the words sounded strange and foreign on his tongue, "--let alone your editor."

It was as gentle a letdown as he could have hoped for, Yukina supposed; and--what had he really expected? That after all this rigmarole, Kisa-san would dutifully ask the question and be delighted to finally receive an answer? That he would leap into Yukina's arms and they might spend the evening conversing about matters not work-related, determining just what that kiss meant, what Yukina was asking for--because truthfully, he wasn't even too terribly sure himself, and Kisa-san had been an excellent adviser in other matters so…surely he could help with this as well?--and then…they could go from there. At least he would have _something_ to go on, though.

Instead, he was sitting here on Kisa-san's couch, in Kisa-san's apartment, having interrupted Kisa-san's otherwise pleasant evening, and receiving probably the gentlest _thanks, but no thanks_ Kisa-san had probably ever given anyone.

But Yukina was feeling petty just now, the sting of rejection sticking in his craw, and he liked Kisa-san, more than was apparently appropriate, but had no intention of letting the guy off so easily. "Then…tell me you don't like me that way."

He wasn't stupid, not thick or blind or anything Kisa-san may have believed him to be for how easily he had seemed to overlook Kisa-san's discomfort--but he hadn't been nearly drunk enough to miss the hints Ryuu-san had been dropping those weeks back, and not once had Kisa-san in his medley of rejections mentioned _I'm not into guys_ , and they both knew it. Not that Kisa-san was obligated to open himself up to every eligible bachelor who wandered along, of course, but Yukina felt he at least merited this much. It was politic to give a reason for rejection, wasn't it?

Kisa-san looked lost, and Yukina clutched at the thread, unraveling his resolve. "I know you're…humoring me again, patronizing me even--" Kisa-san stiffened, face going red with offense, but before he could sputter a protest, Yukina pressed on, "--you think that I'm not mature enough to know what I want, or what saying this means. You think that I haven't given this any thought. You think--" But he cut himself off before he said something he would regret, more than aware that he was speaking from an emotional place at the moment and not one conducive to making Kisa-san see sense. "…I won't back down, Kisa-san. I won't quit--until I'm firmly, clearly rejected."

He ducked his head and focused on his fingers, hands wringing together distractedly. "I like spending time with you--not as my editor, but as a person. I meant what I said--before. You may not think much of yourself, but…I think you're very kind and caring, clever, talented--" And now he could tell from the corner of his eye that Kisa-san was flushing--for entirely different reasons from a moment ago, Yukina suspected; was he really so unaccustomed to receiving praise? He shifted in place to face Kisa-san head-on. "You think so little of yourself, so I feel like I have to think that much _more_ of you to make up the difference--and really, I'm happy to. Because, I think…you're worth it, and someone I'd very much like to be closer with." His heart lifted up into his throat as he blurted out in a desperate effort to impress upon Kisa-san how serious he was in this: "I came here without a second thought tonight, I just…really wanted to see you--and you made me forget my panels!" Kisa-san raised a brow at this accusation, and Yukina really should have stopped there, but instead he continued, "and I'll admit I've never been with a guy before, but I did try thinking about you when I touched myself the other night, and I was able to orgasm, so at the very least--"

There was a sharp keening yelp, and Kisa-san snapped a breathy, strained, " _WHAT_?" before adding a third shade of red to the rainbow he was apparently capable of expressing when pressured.

"I know--" Yukina continued, ignoring the outburst and barreling through, "I'm…young, and inexperienced--" and Kisa-san looked like he wanted to sink into the cushions in shame, trying not to imagine all the arenas in which Yukina was _inexperienced_ , "--but I have good instincts--you've _told_ me so, and you don't give idle flattery, right?" He tried to meet Kisa-san's eyeline, but the man refused to oblige, looking as if he was nursing an oncoming headache. "And--I have a good feeling about you, not just about your abilities, but everything, really. I know I'm getting better at my craft thanks to you, but I also…" He shrugged. "I feel like I'm becoming a better adult, more…responsible, with more pride in my work." There, let Kisa-san try and put himself down _now_. "It's you, Kisa-san. All of it."

Kisa-san's grimace turned petulant, and his brows furrowed in irritation. "Don't kid yourself; _any_ good editor could do the same. And probably in half the time given that you're some freak of nature when it comes to drafting."

"That's _not true_ ," Yukina rounded on him, invading his personal space because really--what did he have left to lose? Kisa-san could put up all the barriers he wanted and mark out borders and distances to be kept, and Yukina would just keep charging in. He could keep this up all night. "It _isn't_ ," he pressed insistently. "You're always complaining about the others, and maybe it's just idle grumblings, but not all of it--I know. Being with you, even for this short amount of time…you're perceptive, you know what an artist needs. What _I_ need. You want the best for me--and you wouldn't saddle me with a subpar editor, right?" When Kisa-san didn't respond, he continued, hoping he'd struck a nerve, "But you're still my editor--so you want to fight for me, right? Because I don't want anyone else, Kisa-san. I want the best for my work--and for me. And that means it has to be you or no one."

It was grandiose and far more _more_ than Yukina had meant to deliver, and nowhere in his mind could he fathom how this could work to his favor in the end, how Kisa-san could let all of this wash over him and come out the other side with anything beyond _even so…no, I'm sorry_.

But he'd said his piece so all that was left to do was wait for Kisa-san to gather his thoughts and respond. No running away this time, no hasty goodbyes on the train platform. Just Kisa-san, hunched and tired but not defeated, not anymore.

He would accept it, whatever Kisa-san decided. Accept it--and be glad for it, because if nothing else, Kisa-san wanted him to be the best damn shoujo mangaka he could be, and if he had to sacrifice one hope for another, he could handle focusing on one dream at a time.

Kisa-san brought one leg up to his chest and wrapped his arms around it, settling his forehead against his knee and sighing softly--and Yukina tried not to think that Kisa-san only ever seemed to sigh around him.


	8. Chapter 8

It was moments like this, Kisa reflected distantly, where he was reminded of the nearly decade of difference in life experience between himself and Yukina--moments where Yukina demonstrated pathetically clearly that he was operating on a completely different wavelength from Kisa and serving as a harsh reminder that yeah, he was making the right decision in keeping this guy at a safe distance and not giving in to his baser instincts.

How did he _do it_? How did Yukina manage such an impulsive act, just launching himself face-first at someone, heart on his sleeve and feelings open and bare for all to see, frank and forthright and eager on the surface (so eager, _fuck_ ), yet beneath it all still so obviously hanging on tenterhooks, as if even the most delicate blow would set him spinning out and crashing down? Where did he get the gall--the _balls_ \--to gather up his everything and lay it out for Kisa to mark and measure, seemingly just hoping for the best?

Had Kisa ever been like that? That pure and honest and open? Had he ever just thrown himself at someone, desperate for their attention and acceptance, dogging them until they gave in and vomiting his feelings all over them until they gave in just for want of a respite?

Sure, he could cruise a bar or a club (less so now that he was past 30, but still) and flirt and make himself available, insert all the right innuendo into a conversation or wear just the right clothes and tilt his head at just the right angle. He could mark a target and seduce and be _good at it_ , but it had nothing to do with confidence--it was all calculated gestures and familiarity and comfort in the knowledge that _this was what they wanted_. There were no risks, and even if things wound up not quite going the way he'd expected for one reason or another, he was swiftly moving on to the next guy stupid enough to think him a minor trying to slip into shoes too big for him and eager to impress.

No, even at Yukina's age when he'd still been far less worldly and jaded than he was now, he'd never done _this_ , and some part of himself was remarking bitterly in the back of his mind _and why do you think that is?_ like there was something wrong with never having settled down, never having gotten serious over anyone, always focusing 110% on his work because that was the one thing he was _capable_ at, so why waste time shooting for the moon when the tricks he could pick up in a bar were good enough to keep him sated and satisfied?

Yukina…wasn't in his right mind. He may have thought he was--but wasn't that what they said? No one ever _thinks_ they're crazy. The guy just didn't know what he was asking, or why on earth Kisa could possibly want to turn him down. He was too damn old to be someone's "experiment" for one thing, had no intention of being the sounding board for Yukina to find out what it was like being with another guy. Not that Kisa didn't hate himself and his moral qualms just a _little_ bit, because there had never been any debate as to Yukina's overall physical attractiveness quotient and _holy shit_ had the guy _really_ just casually confessed that he'd jerked off thinking about Kisa? It was enough to make your head swim--and Kisa had to grip the sofa cushions tight to keep from falling faint. 

But fantasy was just fantasy--and Kisa seriously doubted Yukina had given exactly what he wanted (which wasn't even clear) more than a good five minutes of serious contemplation. He didn't seem to be suggesting a fuck, but he equally didn't seem to be asking Kisa to go steady with him or some such tripe. This whole roundabout confession was…for what? Just to put his feelings out there, hoping Kisa might know what to do with them?

It was confusing on multiple levels, and almost more than being irritated at being forced to address the matter, Kisa was irritated that Yukina wouldn't just come out and _say_ what he wanted, instead just piling his feelings at Kisa's feet like presents and offerings and hoping Kisa scooped them up in his arms and accepted them gladly, with promised recompense. He didn't seem to know the first thing about how you were supposed to go about confessing your feelings to someone--but for all the good it did, what he lacked in experience and foresight…he unfortunately more than made up with in enthusiasm and honest excitement, infatuation oozing from him almost as palpably as that sparkly aura, and that was much more difficult for Kisa to ignore than his obvious youth and lack of consideration of consequences.

It was enough to make him consider for a brief, fleeting, desperate moment…not outright rejecting the guy and keeping their relationship purely business. And that was a very, very dangerous position to be in.

After one long inhalation and exhalation and a mental pep-talk behind closed eyes, Kisa opened his mouth, surprised at how calm and collected he seemed when he was having a mini-nervous breakdown just beneath his skin. "I'm sorry," he started, driving straight to the point rather than beating around the bush, because the guy deserved this much at least, "I just…I can't. Whatever it is you want from me--I _can't_." And none of it was a lie--not the apology, not the lack of understanding what Yukina was even asking, and not the resolute inability to offer anything in return regardless--but that was about where the truth stopped. 

He swallowed thickly, pressing on, more at this point to explain things to himself than to Yukina, who probably didn't give much of a shit about Kisa's self-placating measures. "Just--I don't like to mix work and…relationships--" A lie, not that Kisa was all that proud of it. At least he could honestly say he'd never fucked a mangaka. At least, not one of his own. Yet. He was still going to call that a win. "--and this, whatever it is, this would _be_ something, and I don't want anything interfering with getting your career off the ground." Right, because this spectacular job he was doing of letting Yukina down was going to do _wonders_ for the guy's work, probably. Fuck, there was no right way to go about this, was there? "And just…"

He trailed off, feeble arguments dying on his tongue in the shadow of the one thing Yukina had asked him to say to put him off that he just couldn't, any more than he could give in. 

_Tell me you don't like me that way._

It was simple--all he had to do was put those words to his lips, and who cared if it wasn't true? He'd just poured a few good lies onto the table in his last several breaths, what was one more? What did it matter if he _did_ like Yukina in 'that way', whatever 'that way' was--because it could mean one thing to Yukina and something vastly different to Kisa, that much was clear--when no good would come of owning up to it?

Yet even when most everything he felt for the guy was firmly below the belt, and even when the most enduring emotion he could muster for the guy was _affection_ and some strange attraction to the way he applied himself so completely to his work, how he poured himself into whatever he was doing with narry a cross word, only joy at each new challenge presented him and complete acceptance of Kisa's critique without sacrificing his own viewpoint. Even with all that, Yukina was…fun. Fun, because the things that ticked Kisa off about him were the things that anyone else would find endearing and amusing and Kisa was pretty sure they only pissed him off because he didn't _need_ to feel those kinds of things for someone like Yukina, author or no.

But he couldn't say any of that, and he couldn't say the words Yukina hoped to hear or even expected to hear, one way or the other, so he simply ended weakly, "Just…we can't." Not _I can't_ now, because the more he thought about it the more it became clear that _oh hell yes he could_. This was an all-or-nothing thing, and it needed to stay firmly on the _nothing_ side of things. 

He stared at Yukina across the sofa, noted the way his shoulders slumped rather elegantly even in defeat, his sparkle muted and dimmed as his confidence crumbled, and _god_ he felt like such a jerk. It wasn't Yukina's fault he felt this way, whatever it was, and he wanted so _badly_ for Kisa to give him this thing that he wanted--and Kisa was sitting here with the power to easily make Yukina happy, to reach over and place a hand on his shoulder, duck his head and raise his brows to say _Well? I'm all ears_ while Yukina's affection and admiration washed over him the way he could almost feel it wanting to, dammed up and draining out into nothing.

He could make Yukina happy, not via a compliment on his work or a pep-talk to restore his confidence, but by satisfying this desire the guy seemed to have for closeness, proximity, not physical (or maybe?) but emotional and mental, and even though Kisa wasn't used to guys wanting that with him, if it were Yukina…yeah, he might not mind giving it a go, even though the fear of the unknown had never been something Kisa dealt with well.

He had that power--but also the responsibility not to indulge, to hold back for what he knew to be well-founded reasons, no matter how stupid and unwelcome they might seem just at the moment. He was the older of them both, had a moderately successful career and experience in relationships (not necessarily _wise_ experience), and so it was his job here to put his foot down, to be the sane one in the face of this utterly _in_ sane suggestion. He was obligated…to be everything Yukina wasn't.

It didn't help that the whole thing was so completely foreign to him he didn't know which way to turn. He was used to everything being fast and heated, rushed and serious and sensual and feverish and _yes here now come on_ , acceleration dragging him along so that he didn't have time to get bogged down in this quicksand of over thinking and rationalizing that set him on paths he might otherwise never have attempted. This, though…this fluffy, honest puppy love? Fuck that.

Kisa saw love and relationships…as kind of like a bandaid. It hurt less if you just barreled on through it, got in--did your business--and got out with minimal collateral damage. That, he could do. _Did_ do. But when you were careful and conscientious, when you took your time and poked around, treading hesitantly because you didn't want to rock the boat, didn't want to get ahead of yourself--that was when it left you feeling sick and sore, like something had been ripped away when it all inevitably went ass-up.

And Yukina didn't know these kinds of things, probably. Yukina was young and beautiful and had probably never had to _want_ something--not something he couldn't have--yet here he was getting another lesson from Kisa that curdled his stomach and somehow didn't feel at all like he was doing the guy a favor. "…Really, I'm sorry," he apologized weakly, lacking anything else to add to the silence spreading between them.

Yukina simply shook his head softly, brushing his fingers through his hair to push his bangs from his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, with what Kisa couldn't tell, but at least he wasn't crying or even on the verge. The last thing he needed was for this to turn into the climactic scene of some trashy Sapphire slop that ended with Yukina prostrating himself on Kisa's faux hardwood floor, pledging his eternal love and begging Kisa's in return.

"You don't--" He shook his head again while he gathered his thoughts, "It's nothing to apologize for, honestly, Kisa-san." And his smile was kind of sad, but that was to be expected. "Just…" He scratched at the back of his neck, glancing off to the side like he couldn't quite bring himself to voice the thoughts in his head--and Kisa couldn't blame him, sympathizing. "Is it…" He flicked his gaze back to Kisa's, suddenly sheepish, "Is it all right…if I still like you?"

He patently wasn't asking if Kisa was creeped out so much as asking if Kisa minded if he didn't disguise any manifestations of his affections, and Kisa groaned inwardly, his discomfort creeping into his expression via furrowed brows and a slight curl to his lip--how many times was he going to have to reject this guy before he took the hint and got his spirit broken? "Yukina…"

But Yukina was immediately on the defensive, all signs of defeat dissipating like fairy dust. "No, no I understand, honestly. I didn't really expect…" He shook his head, seeming to give himself a swift mental kick. "Just--I think it…helps? I promise not to let it interfere with my work, and I actually think it may just push me to do even better, and really: you don't have to return my feelings or--or anything, just…let me." He'd almost lifted up onto his knees at this, so fervent was he in his entreaties, and Kisa watched, a bit taken aback, as his energy slowly settled again, sinking back down into _seiza_ as he waited patiently for Kisa to make his decision.

Kisa pursed his lips, wishing he could go for a jog right about now--something, anything to release the itch that was building inside him besides sitting here hunched into a ball waiting to spring loose and fly off every which way. He was skeptical to say the least--guys would say just about anything if the chance that their dick might be sucked were anything other than 'remote'. Then again, Yukina didn't seem the type to be all that worried about his dick, and barring the bit of oversharing earlier (that even had it not involved Kisa would have done a number on his mental circuits), Kisa honestly believed that the guy had…mostly pure intentions here. If he was so very desperate to be _himself_ around Kisa, and everything that entailed, not hiding or keeping hidden, then…didn't he kind of deserve it? Not that Kisa really imagined telling the guy to _stop_ feeling the way he did would do any good--plus it was an asshole move to demand as much, and while Kisa had no problem admitting he could be an asshole, he tried not to go out of his way to be one.

He scratched at his temple and shrugged, shoulders tense with the awkward atmosphere. "I…guess, whatever. Just--" He cut Yukina a sharp warning look. "--don't let it become an issue." He didn't specify what _issue_ meant for good reason--it would keep Yukina extra careful and hopefully push him to drop this silly crush he seemed to be nursing. 

Yukina brightened considerably at this allowance and chirped a quick, "Of course!" as if Kisa had just given him the most precious of gifts, and he immediately regretted giving in on this point; the guy would take the inch given all the way out to a mile. But his fears were unrealized, when Yukina immediately quieted again, letting the events of the past five minutes sink in, before suggesting, "I…suppose I should probably take my leave now."

Kisa barely stopped himself from demanding _Why?_ and instead cleared his throat and nodded shortly; Yukina had no further business here, and hanging around any longer would only leave room for this whole fiasco to come crashing down on their heads. Better to part ways and settle back into the familiar roles of editor and author before they faced each other again; with any luck, they could go another week and it might almost feel _normal_ again.

He followed Yukina to the door, keeping a fair distance while he slipped into his shoes in the genkan and draped his bag across his shoulders, casting about to be sure he'd remembered everything. Kisa groped in his mind for appropriate parting language, trying to call up his next week's schedule to see when he could fit in a quick meeting with Yukina or--even better--if he couldn't spare the guy even a lunch at a cafe, meaning he'd have to send his finished panels by courier.

"Thank you again for seeing me, Kisa-san," Yukina saved him, ducking a short nod. "I'm sorry to have put you in this situation," and Kisa reflexively brushed off the apology with a series of _oh, no, yeah, nah, sure_ babbling which left him reflecting that perhaps his complete and utter inability to function properly in the face of someone he actually _liked_ beyond simply their face or ass (or both) was why he was in his 30s and still sans any real love life to speak of. Summarily rejecting the best relationship he was probably ever going to be offered certainly wasn't helping things either.

Yukina was a nice guy, though; he deserved better than Kisa.

"…See you," he offered dumbly, one hand braced against the wall as he bid Yukina goodnight with a weak wave of his hand, breath coming sharper now that he was almost free of Yukina and the tension he invariably brought with him wherever he went. So close, he was _so close_ and then he could dig through his liquor cabinet to find something to help this whole evening go just a bit blurry, taking the edge off of everything he wanted to forget now.

Except Yukina stopped, paused, drew up short with his fingers on the door handle, ready to lean down and push out into the crisp evening air, and Kisa wanted to scream _no just go just let me be alone to find myself again okay?_ but no such luck, for he drew himself up and twisted on his heel, brows furrowed as he cut Kisa an expression of confusion. 

"Wh--what?" And _fuck_ did his voice really have to quaver like that? It wasn't fear, it was just the _need_ to have more distance from Yukina right now, to give himself time to get his thoughts in order, and each passing moment that that wasn't happening was another moment Kisa had to sit here pretending like everything was fine and that his mind wasn't being stretched five different ways.

Yukina stared for a beat, silence settling between them, before he brought up, "…You never said you didn't like me, though."

 _Fuck_.

Of everything he could have possibly taken away from Kisa's testimonial… _that_ was what he latched on to? _That_ was what stuck out? Not that he didn't get involved with coworkers, not that anything between them beyond strict professionalism could ruin his career before it even started, but _I don't 'not' like you_?

Kisa hemmed, lips thinning into a line as he fought down a frustrated growl. "…Given everything else, it doesn't really matter, does it?" It was far from a smart response; in fact, it was probably one of the more stupid things that could've come out of his mouth just at that moment--but he was tired, and his shields were failing, and Yukina _would not leave_.

Yukina appeared to consider this for the briefest flash, then tipped a frown, less confused and more disappointed, edging on frustration and anger. "But that's…awfully unfair, though."

Kisa mirrored his frown, turning on the defensive as he crossed his arms, "I don't think you're exactly in a position right now to be judging what's fair or not," he sniped, and Yukina promptly colored in shame, averting his gaze and leaving Kisa feeling like a complete heel. He was the one doing the rejecting here--did he really have to rub salt in the wound with his usual cheerful manner?

He rubbed the heels of both palms into his eyes and shook his head. "Geez, I don't… _not_ like you. That's not the issue." And _oh_ how he wished Yukina would just take the hint and understand that there was a _reason_ Kisa had refused to use the language Yukina requested to reject him. "I mean-- _maybe_ if…if you were just some guy I'd met at a bar or something--" God he sounded horrible, like he'd plop himself down in the lap of any guy who sat still long enough, and this wasn't the way he wanted to justify himself to Yukina; this was getting dangerously close to revealing sides to himself Yukina had no business seeing. He barreled through, regardless: "Maybe then--" He waved a hand, "--we could mess around or whatever, but…"

He made a fist and fixed his gaze on Yukina, trying to gather his focus and piece the words together how they needed to fall from his lips. "You can't do this right now. You--need to get this project off the ground, because you only get one first chance--it's now or never--and I need to be able to help you without worrying about whether or not going out to dinner together means you're taking away time from your work to spend with me, or if giving you harsh critique in a meeting means you're not going to put out that night--" Yukina blanched and looked away, and under other circumstances, Kisa would've been tempted to laugh, because it looked like such a foreign expression on his perfect features. "It's…complicated. When you work together. Usually more trouble than it's worth." Whether or not any of that had been anything Yukina had remotely been considering…Kisa felt a bit better for having laid it all out, clear in his own thoughts and opinions at least. "…I really am sorry," he apologized again reflexively, but he still didn't quite sound it.

Yukina, to his credit, seemed to be keeping it together fairly well, and he nodded meekly. "…I understand." Kisa pursed his lips, but was satisfied with the answer. "…But, just so you know: I'm not going to stop being a mangaka." He glanced up to lock eyes with Kisa, gaze hard, and Kisa felt himself falter a bit, suddenly not feeling nearly as high and mighty as he had a moment ago. "I never would have, either way. And I'm not going to stop working with you or ask for another editor. Not because I like you--" He hastily added, "--even though I do, of course--" as if Kisa might actually have forgotten this. "--but…because you're good. You understand me. And I want the best person for my work, and that's _you_ , understand?" His brows lifted, and he shifted closer, prompting Kisa to take a preparatory step back. "More than you want me to do well, _I_ want me to do well, so…please don't think I'm making these decisions lightly." He squared his jaw, firming up. "…I want you as my editor, Kisa-san. Even if it means…you won't consider anything else with me."

An ultimatum, a confession. _You're not scaring me off. I've made my decision._ It wasn't necessarily meant to make Kisa reconsider the surety he held that this was the right choice, the _only_ choice…but it did shake him, nonetheless. 

"So…"

So? No, no there was no _so_. Yukina's determination not to veer from his path, not to let these feelings, whatever they were, deter him from yielding to Kisa's critique was the end, the bottom line. It wasn't justification for whatever followed _so_.

"…can I just kiss you? A real kiss, just once?"

Kisa's stomach turned with shock and nerves, and he pressed himself into the wall, back straight and palms flat against the plasterboard. "Wha-- _hell no_ ," he yelped, voice shooting up an octave, and immediately he wanted to bite his tongue, watching the way Yukina's expression fell, like he'd for some reason had the _faintest hope_ Kisa might agree to such a ludicrous… He made a fist with one hand and pushed the fingers of the other through his hair, feeling a giddy sort of mania settling over him. Fuck. This was…so beyond ridiculous. "Why the hell would you…" He shook his head, hard, willing the mania to abate and leave him clearer headed--but it didn't do much good, and he instead had to press the heels of his palms into his eyes again until Yukina drew back into focus.

He was standing there, tall and straight and unmoving as he waited for Kisa's moment to pass. Dutifully waiting for Kisa to tear him down another notch. Like _Kisa_ was the one behaving abnormally here. And shit--he was doing it again. _Tell me you don't like me that way_. Placing the ball soundly in Kisa's court, so that _he_ had to make all the difficult decisions.

It was insane. A ludicrous suggestion. Understandable if you put yourself in Yukina's decidedly unstable shoes, maybe, but from any rational perspective, it could only lead to Very Bad Decisions. It was the easiest decision he'd yet been asked to make this evening. So of course it was the most difficult.

Because as bad an idea as it was, even considering Yukina's request, at the same time the part of him that _liked_ Yukina, that warmed through when he impressed Kisa yet again with his dedication and fervor in every respect (yes, even in this--that traitorous bit of him rejoiced)…was growing, gaining leverage, and whispering things like _he's been through so much tonight_ and _it's the least you can do for him_ like physical affection was some sort of shitty consolation prize, and didn't this part of him understand that if it sucked, well that'd just be humiliating, and if it was amazing, then that'd be unfair to the both of them? Ignorance truly was bliss in this case, and how much crueler than letting him go was it giving Yukina a taste of what he wanted but couldn't have?

Yet here the guy was, standing in Kisa's genkan emotionally naked before him, with Kisa telling him that if he wanted to follow his dream of being a hit mangaka, then unfortunately he'd have to find someone else to share that with--and _fuck_ but that had to be about the saddest thing Kisa had ever heard and he just…he wanted to do something, anything at all, to make Yukina feel like he wasn't a complete buffoon for wanting some semblance of normalcy in his life.

He shifted in place, leaning off of the wall until he overbalanced and stumbled forward, grabbing onto the lapels of Yukina's coat for balance and hanging his head because he didn't want to see Yukina’s expression when he muttered, "… _Fine_."


	9. Chapter 9

Guys didn't generally _ask_ Kisa to kiss them. To their credit, though, Kisa liked to think he made his desires pretty damn obvious enough that they didn't _have_ to, and if they misinterpreted his signals, they seldom got a second chance--and were seldom missed as such--so it generally worked out pretty well for all parties involved. No virginal hesitation, no awkward bumping of lips and noses, just sudden raw need and desperation and flesh sliding together and _really_ the kissing part was probably the last thing he was concerned with by that point.

He honestly couldn't even _remember_ the last time he'd wasted his time with someone so _new_ as to actually ask for the things Kisa doled out like tissue packets on a street corner, and under other circumstances, Kisa might have laughed at the way this guy, who didn't look like he knew his way around a cock any better than he might trying to go down on a roll of _makizushi_ , seemed even younger than his 21 years, asking hesitantly if Kisa might permit him, by way of parting gift Kisa supposed, one real kiss.

What did that mean, anyways? What was a _real_ kiss? Every kiss was real. Every time you let someone get close enough, not just physically, but opened yourself up to them and gave them that _piece_ of you for even a moment--that was always real. Just because you closed up again like a clam, taking it all away when you'd traded what you wanted from each other, that didn't make what had happened any less real.

Or maybe, this being Yukina, maybe he wanted something he could have for just that brief span of time, that one flash of _something_ with Kisa that he could hold on to in the future when he was hunched over storyboards or had his fingers blackened with ink and tone sticking to his forehead. He could kiss Kisa now and for just a time maybe let himself believe that it was just one kiss of many they had shared and would continue to share, a welcome-home kiss, a congratulations kiss, a good-night kiss, a good-morning kiss, a thanks-for-that-amazing-blowjob-and-I-don't-even-mind-that-you-taste-like-semen kiss. He could kiss Kisa now, and imagine that he could kiss Kisa whenever he wanted.

Except no, no he'd said--he wanted a real kiss. A kiss that wasn't for imagining impossible futures, but for the here and now, and if nothing else, if Kisa never felt anything for him beyond pity, affection, admiration at best, at least he could always have _this_. And maybe that was enough for him.

It was Yukina's kiss to take, Kisa reminded himself firmly, his kiss to take and interpret however he wished, and Kisa would go along with it, because he'd agreed, and because he did honestly think Yukina deserved it. A kiss was nothing to Kisa, but _so much_ to Yukina obviously. So sure, fine, whatever. Go for it. If he thought it important enough to ask for one…then Kisa thought him deserving enough to have it. If he thought it important enough to ask despite _knowing_ it was all he could have…he ought to have just that: _everything_ he possibly could.

And Kisa would make it as real as possible. He wouldn't pretend--because Yukina wanted it to be _real_ , and if he ruined this one chance because of his own hang-ups, he'd never forgive himself. So he'd let himself imagine, not pretend, but _imagine_ what it might be like if he let himself _really_ be in love with Yukina, if he wasn't giving in and granting a kiss, but taking it because he wanted--and maybe because Yukina wanted it too, because that would make the giving, the granting, all the sweeter. He could slip into that mindset for a moment, and he knew it would hurt like fuck when he pried himself loose again, but Yukina wanted real--so real he would get.

"Umm, Kisa…Kisa-san..."

Kisa frowned, eyes shut and face tilted up as he waited, with growing impatience. Waffling and _Umm, Kisa-san…_ was not part of the deal; Yukina was supposed to take his damn _real kiss_ and get it over with so that they could part ways, regroup, and come together again with clearer heads and a more well-defined editor-author relationship with equally well-defined boundaries. _Umm, Kisa-san…_ was nowhere in the script.

He could feel Yukina's hands hovering just over his shoulders, like the guy didn't know what to do with them--and maybe he didn't. Hell, Kisa didn't know what he was supposed to do with them either, so it only stood to reason. He pursed his lips, fought down a growl, and let his eyes flutter open, blinking a few times in the light until Yukina's blushing face came into focus. What the hell. This guy had no business looking so damn _new_ ; if he was going to do something as brash as confess his inexplicable feelings for someone he knew full well couldn't return them for about ten different reasons, he needed to have his shit together. Not stand here, hands hovering like he was about to flap away, babbling _Umm, Kisa-san…_

He lifted his brows pointedly to save himself the trouble of releasing an exasperated _Well?_ , and Yukina shrank in on himself, scratching at the hair brushing the nape of his neck and casting hesitant glances around the genkan, as if perhaps Kisa's coat hook might be able to lend a hand. "I…was only wondering…"

Kisa leaned back against the wall, putting space between himself and Yukina which did wonders to cool his head and set the little murmurs of _what the hell are you doing?_ off again at the back of his mind. Shit--he'd just been about to let his author kiss him; he had a good half-dozen numbers _memorized_ if he just needed quick fuck to settle his nerves, so why had he jeopardized his job like that? Yukina was cute (no, _really, really hot_ ) and endearing in a weird way with how gung-ho and earnest he was about _everything_ ( _everything_ \--just think how he'd be in _no no no_ ), but this was _shoujo manga_ \--serious business! Yukina had a dream, and it was up to Kisa to see that he made all the right choices to achieve that dream, not let a pretty face drive him to--

"Just--I really…was hoping that… _you_ might kiss _me_?" … _What_? And his utter confusion must have registered on his features, for Yukina hastened to explain, "It's only--I mean, I kissed you last time, and--it wasn't really…" He faltered, then recovered, "Just, if I only have this one time, I really…"

Shit. Why did he have to look--to _sound_ so damn pathetic that it made Kisa want to give in to whatever he asked? Why did he have to make it sound like if Kisa complied, if he agreed to go through with this, he'd be over the moon with joy, on cloud nine, dancing with delight just because his midget editor gave him a peck on the lips as recompense for never being able to give him anything more? What kind of a miserable existence was that? Why the hell should he _hope_ for that?

"…You're so weird," he settled, the comment coming out a baffled mutter with an air of defeat laced in his words, and he grimaced in irritation, scratching his temple. "…All right, all right--quit your groveling." He wrinkled his nose. "It doesn't suit you." And before Yukina could open his mouth and release a torrent of excited thanks, Kisa reached up with both hands and beckoned him closer with a huff of resignation. "Just--get down here; you're a freaking giant."

Yukina complied instantly, expression a soft, calm hope tinged with curiosity, and Kisa thanked his lucky stars the guy wasn't overwhelming him with excitement and ruining the moment ( _what_ moment? There was no moment!). "Close your eyes," he snapped softly, not quite sure for whose benefit the order was, but he still felt a sense of relief settle over his shoulders when Yukina complied, and took a deep breath.

A real kiss. Whatever that was, it was what Yukina wanted, and Kisa could do that--he'd already come to terms with it, even. Sure, Yukina didn't quite know what he was asking, and Kisa was pretty sure he'd regret it once he'd experienced it and then had it taken away, but he supposed his job wasn't always to show Yukina the right choices, but to let him make the wrong ones and be there to say _I told you so_ while he helped pick up the pieces. So he could definitely do this--let Yukina make a bad choice, help him see it through until he accepted how wrong it had been, and then guide him back onto the straight and narrow, as it were.

His fingers threaded in the stiff, spiky hairs feathering the nape of Yukina's neck, and he let them play there for a moment, enjoying the familiar sensation of running his fingers through another's hair--he knew it felt good; even just the slightest touch there sent shivers down his own spine, and while Yukina had his eyes closed, Kisa had his very much open and didn't miss the light flush that brightened Yukina's pale cheeks. Of course, he supposed that could've come from any number of causes, but the timing suggested _nope, that's all me_ , and fuck him, he liked it.

Exerting the lightest pressure, he gently guided Yukina down to an angle he hoped wasn't too uncomfortable--it wasn't Yukina's fault all that milk Kisa had drunk in middle and high school hadn't done shit to help him shoot up another few centimeters to at least pass as _normal_ , and Kisa was used to an aching neck by now; it matched his aching jaw and hips and ass, after all. Tilting his head just to the right, he let his mouth fall open a hair, pleased when Yukina instinctively mirrored him as he drew in close, breathing in sharply and getting a dose of the light, fresh cologne Yukina had spritzed on himself before coming over--just as their lips slid together.

He closed his eyes--he didn't mean to, it just happened, because suddenly he was riding on instinct, and while his mind didn't want (told itself it didn't want) Yukina, every other part of Kisa really, _really_ did. And while he'd initially gone in for the solid, chaste peck, maybe a bit of lip, some suction--the kind they did in porn to give the semblance that the actors gave a shit about one another when really they were probably thinking about what they were going to have on lunch break. You couldn't argue that wasn't a real kiss, even if Kisa knew deep inside that wasn't what Yukina wanted, but there were some things-- _some_ things--that Kisa didn't feel confident in being able to give and then take away, and this was one of them--

But no one told Kisa's body that, and when Yukina's jaw dropped open further without prodding, Kisa couldn't help himself, and he pressed inside, taking a sweep of the premises and finding it _quite_ satisfactory. His hands tightened at Yukina's neck, practically hanging on for dear life, and he didn't bother fighting the little whine that was bubbling up from his throat, hitting his nose and coming out all high and desperate because suddenly Yukina seemed to have changed his mind, and after letting Kisa have free rein of his mouth for a moment, he responded in kind and shifted his weight, hands following Kisa's hips as he took a step back in reflection of Yukina's move until he was situated--back against the wall--just like before.

Except this time Kisa didn't feel cornered, didn't feel threatened--not with the way Yukina's breath was coming hard and fast against his cheek, evidence of how desperate he was and making Kisa seem cool and confident in return. Kisa checked his angle and tilted his head further up, drawing Yukina closer until their chests brushed and their lips slid together more smoothly, and _ah_ now this was familiar, comfortable territory--a hard body pressing against him, searching lips and roaming fingers, pent-up desire finally given leash and allowed to run wild, released against him in an explosion of passion that was always _always_ a welcome distraction. He was bad at a lot of things, mediocre at even more--but fucking? _Oh_ , he could do that.

He let his hands slip down from Yukina's neck, sliding meaningfully over strong, taught shoulders and tight biceps under layers of early-Spring jackets and sweat-wear. He could feel Yukina underneath it all, could feel him thrumming with eagerness and youth and excitement, like a thoroughbred prancing at the gate and ready to bolt if Kisa would just _let him_. Could hear it in the way his breathing shuddered against Kisa's skin, in the little grunts and moans he released between their lips, sound muffled against Kisa's mouth as he swallowed it down with pride he would later deny.

And Kisa was almost lost, almost gone, there was no _real kiss_ anymore, it just was what it was--real and genuine and honest as anything because really, the moment he'd brushed his lips over Yukina's of his own volition--that's where he'd misstepped. Opening himself up, freely, letting Yukina in closer than he'd granted the guy ever before, and he should have _known_ that was a mistake, because this was Yukina, who saw opportunities and took them and bowled over everything in his way all without meaning to but with no more finesse than a bull in a china shop. He didn't _mean_ to overwhelm all of Kisa's carefully crafted barriers--it was just what he _did_ \--

\--which was how Kisa wound up not noticing for five whole seconds that Yukina had somehow wedged a hand between them and was palming Kisa through his thin pajama pants and tilting his head to the side, breaking their kiss and leaving Kisa desperately trying to follow him with his own lips, breathing roughly into his cheek a whispered, desperate, " _Kisa-san…Kisa-san, I…_ "

His traitorous body arced up into the touch, lifting up on tip-toes craving friction against his crotch with a wanton sigh and squeezing the fabric of Yukina's jacket tight in his grip, one, two shallow thrusts in time with his name on Yukina's lips and--

He scrambled back, dragging his hands down to brace between them and shoving Yukina away with a forceful blow to the chest. He brought the back of one hand up to his lips, as if sure that only physical impediment could keep him from slipping back into the comfortable give and take he'd been indulging in mere seconds ago, face aflame.

Yukina…had the gall to look guilty. Like he _knew_ what he'd done. Like he'd calculated it, wanted it, aimed for it--like it hadn't just been a _heat of the moment_ thing, and the _bastard_. Kisa didn't want to entertain that thought--didn't want to have to consider the consequences. He wanted--just wanted Yukina to--

"Leave. Please." He had to bite out the request, gaze focused hard on the floor as he struggled to keep his voice from breaking and waxing into that desperate moan he'd been choking down, and he prayed that Yukina wouldn't want to _discuss this_ right now, because Kisa didn't honestly know what he'd say, especially since he was standing here in his genkan fairly painfully hard just from a bit of making out and some light petting, and if Yukina made the slightest insinuation, the most innocently suggestive comment, he was actually worried he'd take the guy up on most anything he suggested right now--which _could not happen_. " _Please_ ," he tried again, and this one came out a lot easier when he let himself think that maybe, unspoken, behind it he was asking, _Please, keep doing that_.

Kisa didn't do this--work himself into situations he wasn't prepared to respond to. Not with guys, at least. He picked a mark, he talked his talk and let them take him _somewhere a bit more private_ , and he was _always in control_ \--because anything else was dangerous when you were letting someone see this side of you. He'd been stupid and let his guard down, told himself it was _just Yukina_ and that _Yukina deserves this_ and all the while he should've been thinking that yeah, Yukina wasn't an idiot, he didn't stumble into a situation like this not ready to lay it all on the line and fight for what he wanted. He was new, but he wasn't _stupid_ , and if he could get off thinking about Kisa (oh _fuck_ , that was going to stick with him for a while), then he sure as hell could seize an opportunity like this and press his advantage--fairly literally.

"Kisa-san, I…" And Kisa's breath froze in his chest, time almost stopping while Yukina fumbled for his words, everything shuddering back into place at a normal clip when he finished pathetically, "…I'm sorry."

Kisa didn't respond--not verbally, not with a shake of his head or a pointing of the finger to reiterate _get out_ , and after a silent beat, the welcome jingling of the lock being jimmied fell on Kisa's ear, followed shortly by the soft _whoosh_ of the night air, bringing a chill to his exposed flesh, still flushed and heated from their encounter.

"…Goodnight, Kisa-san."

At least he hadn't said _thank you_.

Kisa waited until he heard Yukina's footsteps fade away, the hollow clang of sneakers on the metal stairs echoing in the night until he reached the bottom, and then with a frustrated groan, he scrambled back down the hallway, almost waddling, and skidding on socked feet into the bathroom, where he threw open the door and plopped inelegantly down onto the seat. With one hand, he shakily fumbled with the tie on his pants, while the other he slipped under the hem to hastily tug out the erection Yukina had started (in the heat of the moment, _in the heat of the moment_ ).

Fuck--how had it come to this? Why was he sitting here, pants around his knees now, bare ass on the fluffy shag toilet seat cover, with his hand flying desperately over his cock and eyes clenched shut because he was only going to let himself do this once, and he wanted to make it count? Why was he having to bite his lip because _like hell_ was he going to let himself so much as whisper Yukina's name? Why didn't this feel as good as it usually did because now he knew what Yukina's fingers felt like when they were palming his cock--even through a couple layers of fabric--why the hell should that matter?

What was he supposed to do? Throw away his career for a fuck with a pretty (very, very pretty) face? Bid farewell to another potential up-and-comer because he couldn't properly control his own _up-and-coming_?

He listed to the side, resting his head against the soft plaster of the wall, and groaned to himself, half in frustration and half in pleasure, his palm slick and sliding like butter over his stiff cock.

Would Yukina have done it? Would he have let Kisa just rut against his hand like that until he messed his pants in a sticky climax, or would he have dipped his hand beneath the hem of his pants, fingers groping blindly until they brushed over heated flesh, a smile as he realized a cock was a cock and jerking off Kisa-san wouldn't be all that different from doing it to himself, swallowing any of Kisa's protests in a kiss until Kisa was boneless and spent?

And what about reciprocation? Would Kisa have done it of his own volition, reaching for the zip to Yukina's jeans before he'd even gotten half-stiff, determined that if they were going to do this, then they were going to do it together, and damn the consequences? Or would Yukina have rendered such conscious thought impossible, leaving Kisa muddled and confused and apathetic with his cock still twitching in the throes of orgasm as he blindly reached out, not even caring anymore, just wanting to say _fuck it all_ before he realized he knew better--and Yukina would be so close already, because, " _Kisa…san, that's…ah…_ " And maybe Kisa would wish they'd done this on the couch or in the bedroom, because he wants to go down on Yukina _really_ fucking bad--the guy sounds this hot just from a hand on his cock, if Kisa could get his mouth on him, he'd probably--

" _Ah--!_ " His hips spasmed, and he pressed his face into the wall with enough force that he was certain he'd burned his cheek--there'd be a mark, and Ricchan would comment on it worriedly, and Kisa would have to make some offhanded joking comment like _Issues with my intake of men's essence!_ , but at least it would make Ricchan blush, and that was kind of worth it.

He shuddered out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding, taking deep inhalations and short, huffed exhalations until his breathing returned to normal. Semen dribbled down his shaft and over his hand, dropping in great greasy white blobs on the floor below; at least he hadn't spurt far--he wasn't in the mood to give his toilet a scrub-down this evening. He kept slowly milking himself until his cock stopped twitching, wincing as he reached for the toilet paper to mop himself up into something half-way presentable.

Jerking off to thoughts of his client. If that wasn't rock-bottom, it had to be damn near. He wasn't entirely sure if it made the deed better or worse that Yukina had seemed intent on pushing him in that direction in the first place, or that Yukina had self-admittedly already used Kisa in his fantasies--so this was arguably justified payback (nope, still not over that).

It only mattered that he'd done it--given in, when he'd promised he wouldn't, when he'd promised he'd only pretend, and maybe it was just that he was damn good at pretending, but _shit_ for a minute there that had felt real, really real, like something they could have and maybe it wouldn't be as bad as Kisa was afraid it would be. Maybe it'd be really _good_ , and he could have Yukina's desperate kisses and sparkling smiles and stupid immature giggles and inane chatter about what he had for lunch and not have to feel guilty about it.

Maybe he wouldn't have to feel guilty about it--in fantasy.

But in reality, he'd just screwed himself royally.


	10. Chapter 10

Yukina had gotten quite adept at using a fax machine over the past couple of weeks.

It was an amazing machine--simply feed the paper into the tray or place it in the scan bed, dial the number of the person you were avoiding at all costs, and voila--no awkward meeting in a semi-private location necessary!

Granted, it wasn't perfect; Yukina still had to occasionally share phone conversations with Kisa-san, and there had been the couple of times it couldn't be avoided and Kisa-san had asked that they meet in the waiting area of the front lobby of Marukawa--in full, unfettered view of the girls at reception--but they had the both of them managed to struggle through those meetings relatively unscathed and with little damage to the product as well. In fact, Yukina might hazard, this 'minimal action, business-only' kind of relationship they'd been saddled with by tacit mutual consent was…actually doing wonders for Yukina's work.

Kisa-san's comments were short and clipped, terse observations that cut right to the quick, and Yukina had steeled himself for this sort of response--it was classic Kisa-san, he was beginning to notice--and had suitably hardened his skin for the cool reception. It hurt and grated, deep down, but at least on the surface…he could feign dispassion. If Kisa-san wanted assurance that Yukina could remain completely unaffected, he would receive such assurances.

But it didn't mean Yukina meant them.

And really--who was he kidding? How the heck were you supposed to just shrug off what they had done? He'd said he wanted a _real kiss_ , but truth be told, he hadn't even really known exactly what that was when he'd spoken it--he supposed he'd only meant something more than a simple peck on the lips or the chaste brush on the cheek he'd given Kisa-san days before. Something--anything--that he might be able to enjoy for just the one moment before he let himself shut the door on such possibilities for good.

What he'd received instead had been… _wow_.

He'd thought he'd had fairly serious relationships before--even if he'd never really felt that _spark_ that he'd heard you would feel when you found The One, whatever that meant. He'd dated, even remained friends with some of his former flames, and while he hardly had a roster of potential partners secreted away, he'd never found himself having to go stag to any function. In short: he'd been around the block a few times, and while his attraction to Kisa-san was admittedly new and unexpected, he honestly hadn't figured it would be…well, all that different from dating women.

But of course Kisa-san had to be Kisa-san and prove him wrong on so many fronts.

He _seemed_ to like Yukina--not just get along with him, but genuinely be attracted, which to Yukina seemed like a good thing, since unless he was mistaken, he'd made it pretty obvious in Kisa-san's apartment that the attraction was mutual. Except Kisa-san didn't seem to think this was grounds for a relationship, that no matter any feelings, being together would only reflect badly on Yukina's work and sap his devotion to his dream.

Which, Yukina had wanted to retort, was a load of shit.

Why did it have to be one or the other? Why wouldn't Kisa-san actually _discuss_ this properly? He'd managed to weasel out of having to actually turn Yukina down with the words he wanted to hear, and Yukina had _warned_ him--warned him that if he didn't, he wouldn't give up. Not on Kisa-san, not on his dream--if Kisa-san had feelings for him but was laboring under the misconception that somehow Yukina would slack off and devote himself wholly to Kisa-san like some lovesick puppy--

Well, he supposed that display in the genkan hadn't done much to dispel those worries.

He just hadn't been prepared, that was all; touching himself had been one thing--he'd needed to _know_ , to understand if this was simple infatuation and admiration of a veteran in his field and appreciation for Kisa-san's hard work and high returns, or if he wanted…well, _more_. His briefly entertained notion that not being sexually attracted to Kisa-san didn't necessarily mean he wasn't still romantically attracted to him was washed away when he discovered that oh, _yes_ , he definitely could get it up with thoughts of Kisa-san if he put his mind to it.

In hindsight, that probably hadn't been the best way to test the extent of his feelings, and seeing the sour turn events had taken now, it could prove a very major annoyance in their future interactions.

Especially since he now had the added bonus of understanding what Kisa-san's lips tasted like, what he sounded like when he was horny and desperate, how he shuddered and gasped when someone touched him down there. All these things that, separately and out of context, did nothing for Yukina--now combined to remind him that he really, _really_ liked Kisa-san.

And that he really, _really_ had screwed himself over. In more ways than one.

_Clink_

Yukina blinked slowly at the tumbler of amber liquid that had been summarily placed right in front of him.

"First one's on the house if you spill why you look like you just got your heart broken."

Yukina craned his neck up, shoulders aching from the slump he'd settled into since hopping up on the bar stool fifteen minutes ago, taking up space at the counter without ordering a thing, lost in thought.

Ryuu-san…that was the man's name, he remembered now. Kisa-san had introduced him weeks back when he'd brought Yukina here to cheer him up for…he couldn't even remember now. Maybe it'd worked--he'd gotten drunk and obviously forgotten about whatever it was that had prompted Kisa-san to bring him here in the first place.

"You're Shouta's guy, yeah?" And Yukina didn't quite know how to respond to that, so he just blinked steadily between Ryuu-san and the drink he was being offered, not entirely sure if it was such a good idea to be taking drinks from relative strangers at a bar he'd only entered for the second time in his life tonight. Ryuu-san seemed to read his mind and tapped the glass a bit closer before leaning over the bar, arms crossed before him. "I remember you."

"I…didn't order anything, though," he fumbled dumbly, and Ryuu-san's fond smile turned knowing.

"You ordered this last time; at some point, at least." He shrugged. "I never forget a pretty face's drink."

He supposed he should've been ruffled by the overly familiar manner with which Kisa-san's friend regarded him, but he was still halfway lost in thought, and now he was stuck flashing back to the bits and scraps of memory he could salvage from that evening. "I'd…better not," he tried, but Ryuu-san just pounded a fist on the hardwood counter and shook a finger in his face.

"You're in a bar; you're gonna drink. If you think you'd 'better not', then you'd 'better not' stay here. I don't care if you have an oolong tea--so long as your ass is in that seat, there's gonna be a glass in your hand." He tapped the rim of the tumbler again, raising a brow. "Now you can either drink this fine brew the bartender has kindly offered you in exchange for your sad tale of woe--or you can find another bar to loiter in."

Yukina glanced around, startled to find the room mostly empty--how did this place stay in business?--before turning back to Ryuu-san and the drink before him, confusion settling over his features. "…'Sad tale of woe'…?"

Ryuu-san chuffed a soft laugh, and Yukina jumped at the scrape of wood over wood as the man drew up a barstool for himself behind the counter, settling in with a relieved sigh. "I'm a bartender in 2-chome; you think I don't know what rejection looks like when I see it?"

Yukina pursed his lips, but dutifully dragged the drink closer, if only to satisfy Ryuu-san's insistence he not hang around for no reason. "I'd…really rather not discuss anything." There, vague enough, he supposed. It probably would've been better not to have engaged at all, or even insinuated that there was indeed a sad tale of woe (not _woe_ so much, just…profound disappointment and confusion and frustration--and okay, that was a bit woeful, all put together), but he'd been brought up to make polite conversation when engaged, and so, "I'd rather not," had been about the extent of his efforts to avoid what was looking more and more like the inevitable.

Ryuu-san snorted and reached for a bottle under the bar, pouring himself a drink from his own wares. "If you didn't want to discuss your crappy love life over drinks, then why'd you come here?"

Yukina paused to consider this--really, he hadn't been thinking of much at all when his feet had brought him here, but sitting around his apartment at home just reminded him of Kisa-san every time he glanced at his panels, and while coffee shops were nice places to settle into when you just wanted to get out and be alone for a while, there was no comparison with the way a bar kind of drew you, siren call whispering in your ear that everything would be better if you just let yourself get a little buzzed for a few hours.

"It's…the only bar I really know." It wasn't a lie, really; most of the places he'd frequented with friends had been rowdy, yuppie establishments near his university, and he hadn't really wanted to run the risk of running into anyone he knew. The last thing he needed was to happen upon Rio-chan and her ilk on a group date only to find himself wrangled into playing seventh wheel to the group. He shrugged, "Plus…"

This caught Ryuu-san's attention, and he paused his pouring with a raised brow. "Plus…?" He waited for the second half of the comment, but Yukina clammed up, resolute in his refusal to turn this into a pity party. He simply needed a bit of time alone with his thoughts to square everything away, that was all. Ryuu-san couldn't convince Kisa-san to change his mind, nor could he turn back time to make it so that Yukina hadn't embarrassed the both of them with a hasty confession in the first place. "Discussing your crappy love life" was futile at this point.

When Yukina didn't finish his thought, Ryuu-san seemed to take this as his cue to fill in the gap, though, and he started after a moment's consideration, "…Shouta's a complicated guy." Yukina tried not to flinch, tried to keep his expression cool and calm and collected, because really, he didn't want to discuss this--and Ryuu-san didn't seem to expect him to respond, either, for he continued on as if he were simply talking to himself. "I mean--you work with him, I'm sure you know what a tight-ass he can be on the clock. I assume he's gotta be, given what a little prick he can be off it." And Yukina felt the familiar tension settle across his shoulders whenever the subject of Kisa-san's attitude came up; Kisa-san berated himself enough as it was, Yukina certainly didn't want to hear it from others, even ones so familiar with Kisa-san as Ryuu-san.

"Not that it's necessarily a bad thing in his line of business I imagine," Ryuu-san saved smoothly. "But like I said…he's a complicated guy."

"Mm," Yukina offered ambivalently, more out of politeness than genuine interest in the conversation. He came here to forget about Kisa-san for a few hours--and here he was getting a lecture on the guy. It figured.

"He likes to make the first move."

Yukina paused, the glass hanging in mid-air halfway to his lips, and he took a long, slow breath before letting the tumbler finish its journey, enjoying the smooth burn of the alcohol down his throat. It was disgusting and tasted like paint thinner; Yukina wanted more.

Ryuu-san snorted, but when Yukina glanced up, suspicious, he seemed to be shaking his head in amusement at himself, taking a draw from his own glass. "I mean--I gather as much, you know? Yeah he's kind of a flirt--he knows what he looks like, and he knows how to capitalize on it, the scheming little snot. But if you watch him work this place when it's crowded?" He shook his head and let out a low whistle. "Beautiful."

Yukina shifted in place, the earlier tension now waxing to irritation, an unfamiliar, unfounded, baseless frustration that Ryuu-san seemed to think this appropriate conversation when Yukina was clearly sending signals that he didn't want to be bothered.

"He always…" Ryuu-san shook a finger in Yukina's general direction, gaze focused over his shoulder in distant contemplation, "…seems like he's on the defensive, but--it's just a facade. A big ol' trick to lure them in, see? He picks his target…then lets them think they're getting exactly what they want. And I guess they are, to an extent--but he's _always_ in control, that one." He sniffed, then took another swig of his drink, emptying it and flailing about blindly with his free hand to his side until he found the bottle he'd drawn from. "He's probably never been seriously pursued in his life--" He held the bottle out to Yukina with raised brows, and after a moment's hesitation, Yukina let him top off the glass again, "--I doubt he'd even know what to do with someone who seriously wanted him as much as he wanted them. Just letting go of control like that…" He shook his head. "Not in Shouta's nature." He licked his lips, a knowing grin blooming, before he added, "Hell, he probably wouldn't even understand the concept of someone seriously wanting him in the first place, given those self-esteem issues he's got."

_Doubt he'd even know what to do with someone who seriously wanted him as much as he wanted them_

If Yukina had been tipsier by now and not only a few sips into something stronger than he usually took, he might have laughed at the image of Kisa-san flailing about in confusion as Yukina lumped his affections and heartfelt confessions on his head. Instead, the too-new memory just twinged uncomfortably in his chest. The notion of Kisa-san never having been seriously pursued seemed all-too understandable--not because he couldn't see Kisa-san as desirable, but because Kisa-san didn't seem the sort to sit back and wait for something he wanted, even if he played the part of 'hopeful suitor' on the surface. Kisa-san certainly wasn't the most forthcoming of people Yukina had ever encountered, and it was clear that when he was suitably spooked, he'd tuck his head back into his shell and pray for everything to go away, resolve itself--and _shit_ , Ryuu-san knew what he was talking about. Really _knew_.

He swallowed thickly before trying, as nonchalantly as possible, "So…has he ever--ah, been involved with anyone he worked with before?" And as soon as the words left his lips, he wanted to groan--because what did Kisa-san's dating history with co-workers have to do with Ryuu-san's psychological breakdown, really? He was being staggeringly obvious now--not that Ryuu-san hadn't very likely been waiting for this sort of an opening.

Ryuu-san raised one brow, sending unpleasant cramps curling through Yukina's chest, but he just shrugged, demurring, "Shouta claims he doesn't sleep with co-workers. Too much baggage supposedly." He dipped a nod though, adding, "…but he hasn't always been that successful in sticking to his little code or whatever."

And sure, Yukina had been building a picture of Kisa-san for some time now--hard-working, diligent, critical (of himself and others), thoughtful, fragile, prickly, simultaneously aggressive and defensive--but it wasn't so easy to reconcile the strong person who critiqued his panels, who humored him on his research missions, who pitied him without making him feel pitiful…with the image Ryuu-san painted of a much more flirtatious, coy sort who flitted from suitor to suitor--and Kisa-san had never denied his preferences, why was that? And why did it make Yukina all the more enthralled, how he embraced everything he desired and never apologized for it?--but still stopped to sip from waters he shouldn't taste, violating his own complicated code on a regular basis but still unflinchingly resolute in his refusal of Yukina?

What could all of these nameless, faceless conquests Kisa-san pursued, _sought out_ , give him that Yukina couldn't?

He frowned to himself, feeling that irrational frustration pricking at him again. "So…has he ever--"

"Ryuu-saaaan, gimme a-- _ah_."

Kisa-san--for of course it was Kisa-san, who else would Yukina be unlucky enough to run into?--froze, hand still lifted to duck under the _noren_ hanging over the door, and he visibly shifted onto his back-most foot, tilting away instinctively from the setting he'd sauntered in on.

Ryuu-san straightened up, shifting off of the stool he'd drawn to the counter, and snatched up his glass, raising it in Kisa-san's direction. "Perfect timing, Shouta. Your mangaka needs company and I need to prep some _tsumami_." He nodded to the empty stool next to Yukina, then raised his brow when Kisa-san balked. "Unless you're just here to pay your tab…?"

Kisa-san flushed, then stalked determinedly over to the bar, yanked out the chair, and hopped up with a bit of effort before scooting closer to the counter, muttering under his breath. Yukina watched him with guarded interest, making no effort to avoid seeming like he was staring--because really, what was the use?--and taking in as much of Kisa-san as he possible could in this first glimpse outside of a work-setting in nearly two weeks.

Kisa-san leaned forward, settling his elbows on the counter and keeping his back ramrod straight, shoulders tense as he focused on the dingy wall flanking the bar, before which Ryuu-san was busy preparing some simple cocktail for Kisa-san before shuffling away to his prep work. Kisa-san muttered soft thanks when a tall glass was slid into his hands, and he swirled the contents with a frown before taking a tentative sip.

"…Didn't your mother ever teach you it's not polite to stare?"

Yukina jumped in his skin. It was that same, familiar snippy tone laced with an undercurrent of amusement--but seemed almost forced now. Strained with nerves, rather. He swallowed. "Eh?"

Kisa-san slid his gaze to the side, cocking his head a hair when he couldn't gather Yukina wholly into his field of vision. "So? You got artist's block or something?" He snorted dryly to himself, raking a quick glance over Yukina in an ostensible attempt to divine what had brought him here. "Or'd you pull off the impossible again and finish the next five chapters already?"

Yukina blinked a few times, trying to determine how exactly to graciously receive the sideways compliment--which filled his chest with warmth when he realized he'd really, _really_ missed Kisa-san like this. Missed the long-suffering sighs and snorts of derision that really weren't as snarky as Kisa-san would have him believe, the half-smiles of affection whenever Yukina eagerly drank up whatever critiques he had to offer, the way his eyes grew wide and a light flush of pride settled on his cheeks when Yukina responded to those critiques above and beyond what Kisa-san had obviously been expecting…

He cleared his throat with a soft cough and straightened in place, forcing a stretched smile of his own. "Sorry to disappoint; only two chapters ahead." And he almost thought he caught Kisa-san fighting a real, honest grin at this--but if he had been, he'd obviously won, for his face was back to the pale, blank nothingness from before a blink later. Yukina fingered the tumbler in his hands, sliding it across the smooth wood and drawing shapes in the condensation. "I mostly just…wanted to get out for a while. To think, I suppose."

From the corner of his eye, he caught Kisa-san shifting uncomfortably in his chair, likely assuming that the topic of Yukina's "thinking" involved him--and while it wasn't really Kisa-san's fault or anything Kisa-san should feel discomfited over, Yukina bitterly rejoiced in the reaction and let him think his faulty thoughts for the time being. Kisa-san wasn't the only one who could be an asshole.

The fit of irritation passed quickly, though, and Yukina cleared his throat, hazarding, "So…why are _you_ here then, Kisa-san?" The conversation felt strange before it had even begun, and Yukina supposed it was because it had been weeks since they'd had anything resembling mild non-work-related banter, leaving the topic feeling foreign on his lips.

Whether Yukina meant it or not, his tone must have come out accusatory, for Kisa-san was immediately on the defensive, biting out, "I'm the one who brought you here in the first place--that should be _my_ line." He lifted his drink to his lips, muttering, "You're the one who should be explaining what the hell he's doing here…"

Yukina flushed darkly, for reasons entirely unrelated to the liquor in his belly, and he returned weakly, abashed, "I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply…" And Kisa-san flinched, grimacing, then shook his head. Yukina wondered idly why he always seemed to wind up apologizing to Kisa-san when they were left alone together for too long. Being in mere proximity to him somehow made Yukina feel guilty beyond measure.

He jumped in his skin when Kisa-san slapped the counter with a loud _whack_. "Ryuu-san!" he squawked, "Another!"

* * *

"So you really wanna know…?"

This, after a good half hour of near silence between them as they nursed their respective drinks, alcohol content increasing with each round. Yukina swallowed thickly, tongue feeling dead in his mouth and vision going a little fuzzy at the edges--but Kisa-san still showed up in stark relief against the rest of the bar, the few other patrons immersed in their own conversations or self-flagellation sessions. "I'm…sorry?" And for once it wasn't uttered in that pathetic apologetic tone.

Kisa-san supported his head in the the palm of one hand as he leaned against the counter, drumming his free fingers against the half-empty tumbler Ryuu-san had passed him after he'd quickly downed the previous two. Yukina had come here to pass the time and maybe get a little buzzed--enough to forget why he'd come. Kisa-san seemed on a mission to get well and thoroughly plastered.

Yukina tried not to imagine what might have happened if he hadn't been here to watch it all go down.

"I said--" Kisa-san grunted, cheeks flushed but still coherent enough to carry on a conversation despite himself, "--d'you really wanna know why I'm here?"

And Yukina did, quite desperately actually--and at the same time didn't, really just wanted Kisa-san to leave him alone, more so than he had wanted Ryuu-san to stay the same, because there were two sides of him at war just right now, and part of him wanted to try and distance himself from the very-much-unrequited feelings he held for Kisa-san while another part wanted to push and press and hover and entreat until those feelings became requited, as if such a thing were even possible. Must be the alcohol, he determined.

He supposed it must have been a rhetorical question, though, for Kisa-san eventually muttered something foul under his breath and slumped forward, massaging his temples with closed eyes. "One of my authors."

"…Eh?"

"One of my authors--she's probably going to break her deadline." Ah, so this wasn't some roundabout _so I have a friend who's in love with someone he works with…_ way of broaching the issues between them. Yukina was at once disappointed and disgusted with himself for having the gall to hope for such a thing. But then Kisa-san wiped at his eyes, fatigue evident, and all of Yukina's self-pitying washed away in the wake of so much second-hand worry and anxiety. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering how much of his get-up-and-go came from an honest desire to get his product to print and how much came from wanting to be as little a burden on Kisa-san as possible. "She's probably going to break her deadline, and it's all my fault."

Yukina frowned, brows knitting, and he offered up weakly because it was the only thing he had: "I'm…sure that's not going to--"

"I wasn't watching her closely enough, because I figured hey, she's been doing this for years, I can give her a little rein and she'll be fine--but now she's got to completely redo the first half of her draft from scratch--" And Kisa-san's breathing started to pick up with desperation, "--and it's _Wednesday_ and the print's due _Friday_ and I can't find any assistant to spare to help her finish her work, but I can't bitch anyone else out because I'm the only one there is to blame and I'm _30 fucking years old_ and I've been doing this for _years_ and I _shouldn't_ be making stupid mistakes like this and getting cocky but I obviously _have_ and maybe _this_ is why I never get anywhere in this line of work, because I'm clearly not cut out to take on more responsibility and it's no _wonder_ Hatori is Takano's right-hand man even though I've been doing this kind of shit longer-- _fuck_."

The last curse was louder than appropriate and drew concerned glances from the patrons nearby, and Yukina pasted on an apologetic smile to wave them off, hands hovering over Kisa-san's shoulders as he held himself back from being overly familiar. The tirade had been long and without breath, and now Kisa-san was breathing hard and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of frustration, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists against the counter. Yukina could feel Ryuu-san looking on in concern, but the man made no attempt to intervene, and Yukina silently thanked him.

He pursed his lips, groping for something to say, and blurted out without thinking, "Could I--I mean, I've got a bit of leeway, I think? If your author needs an assistant to help…?"

Kisa-san laughed, a derisive snort that devolved into bitter chuckles, and he wiped furiously at his eyes, waving Ryuu-san over for a refill, which he was silently granted. Knocking back more of his liquor, he shook his head resolutely. "No. No no no, and hell no." He sniffled. "I made my bed, now I have to sleep in it." After a pause, the dark chuckles started up again, and his back heaved with held-in laughter. "Heh. Guess that's the only place I'm any good." He lifted his glass to Yukina in a mock toast, tilting his head with a foppish grin and raising one brow. "The bedroom!"

Yukina offered an uncomfortable smile in return, ducking his head, and watched carefully as Kisa-san proceeded to fill the silences and distance between them with more drinks. He made attempts--half-hearted, admittedly--at distraction, trying to divert Kisa-san's attention from the matter at hand or work or relationships and keep him semi-coherent instead of letting him get as smashed as he seemed intent on getting, but the guy seemed to have burned himself out on conversation for the evening, and Yukina counted himself lucky if he wrung any sort of polysyllabic response to his probing questions and comments. When he flagged down Ryuu-san for what felt like the tenth time, Yukina shot the man a warning glance, placed a hand on Kisa-san's shoulders, and nudged his own drink between them, inviting Kisa-san to drink it instead (the ice had melted enough that it was half water by now anyways) and pace himself more, "or I'll have to help you home, and you won't want to owe me."

He'd meant it as a teasing joke, hoping that Kisa-san was sufficiently buzzed to appreciate a bit of levity in light of their awkward situation--it was the only way they were ever going to get back to "normal," whatever that was--but Kisa-san violently rolled his shoulder, shooting Yukina a sharp glare and biting out, "Don't fucking touch me," before wobbling unsteadily on his stool and stumbling gracelessly down to the floor, where he tottered on both feet and nearly toppled forward before Yukina was at his side again, hands firmly on both shoulders to keep him steady. He tried again to dislodge Yukina, but the grip remained firm now that he knew what to expect. "You need to--listen to your elders." He rolled his shoulders again for effect, huffing with the effort.

"Given how much you've had to drink, I'd say we're about on equal footing," Yukina murmured next to his ear, just loudly enough for Kisa-san to hear. "Shall I help you to a cab?"

Kisa-san shifted around, twisting his upper body to brace his arms between them, and shoved hard enough to dislodge Yukina, storming out in a huff, and Yukina could do little more than watch him leave, turning a desperate glance to Ryuu-san--except Ryuu-san was back in the kitchen area now, and what was he supposed to do about payment? Could it wait, could he put it on a tab? Could--

He caught Kisa-san wobbling unsteadily toward the curb, one hand flailing about for a taxi, and he shoved aside all other worries to dart outside, hands doing that _hovering_ thing again where he didn't know what to do that wouldn't make Kisa-san hate him more than he already must.

Kisa-san's movements grew steadier without need for intervention after a moment, though, and he straightened up, shoulders squared, as he stared into the night, the empty street quiet save for a jogger out for an evening run a block away. He breathed in deep, releasing the breath as a long, solid exhalation, then tilted his head back to gaze upward, eyes closed and a sad, defeated smile on his lips.

It hurt to watch, but Yukina couldn't possibly leave right now, so instead he offered helplessly, "…Please, Kisa-san. What can I do? There has…to be something I can…"

"There's _not_ ," Kisa-san snapped, the sad little smile turning sharp and biting as he hung his head, and his voice was thick with frustration and irritation. "It's my mess, I made it--and there's nothing you can do about it, so--" He whirled around, catching himself as he almost overshot his goal, and shook an unsteady finger in Yukina's face, "-- _stop_ it. Stop--trying to coddle me or tell me I don't suck or that I'm not an asshole. You don't _know_ me, and all this _let me help you_ crap just--makes me feel even _more_ pathetic." He ran a hand through his hair and took a few steps away, making a wide sweeping circle as he tried to calm down.

Yukina watched him in silence for a few long moments--he was a quick learner, and it seemed to him the best strategy when Kisa-san was feeling self-berating was to keep his distance and swoop in, quick and silent and deadly to remind him how wrong he was on all counts, before taking a tactical retreat to let Kisa-san monologue again for a bit. "I'm sorry," he apologized after a beat, when Kisa-san was just starting back along his elliptical path toward the bar's entrance. At least this time he didn't feel so helpless when he did it--as now he understood just what he was apologizing for. "I simply can't help it; I love you, and I'm quite sure I've heard that you can't help yourself when you're in love."

Kisa-san snorted derisively and smoothly skipped over the confession. "Bullshit. That's just an excuse people give for their own poor choices, shoving the blame for whatever crappy decisions they've made onto some emotional response to avoid having to take responsibility for their own actions." He snorted again and shook his head, then drew to a stop a few paces from Yukina, head cocked to the side and expression a bitter reflection of his frustration and disappointment with everything around him at the moment. "You--are young, and beautiful, and congenial, and--and _capable_ , and you can do anything or _have_ anything you want--"

Yukina drew in close--quicker than Kisa-san's dulled reactions could possibly process. "I can't have you, though, can I?"

Kisa-san let the words wash over him like a gentle wave--then his face twisted with disgust. "That…is _so_ unfair." He turned away and buried his fingers in his hair, shaking his head. "For fuck's sake, you can't…I can't just…" And after his moment's gleeful knife-twist, salt on the wound, Yukina immediately regretted the out-of-line comment, because _really_ , Kisa-san obviously had a lot to deal with at the moment, did Yukina honestly need to bring that up again, _now_ of all times? Kisa-san was still going, though: "The _fucking nerve_ you have to have to--" And he abruptly twisted on his heel, brows knit in anger as he stalked forward with a grunted, "Fine, _fine_ ," before gripping Yukina tightly at the elbow and dragging him back towards the bar--or rather, just off to the side, aiming for a narrow, dark alley bounded on either side by tall stacks of dish racks and wooden crates that had likely been used to transport bottles to the bar. There was some light scuffling as Kisa-san toed an old, empty bentou box off to the side, before Yukina was unceremoniously yanked ahead and shoved against the brick butting against the eastern wall of the bar.

" _Fine_ ," he repeated again, an angry mutter, and Yukina had only a moment to wonder just _what_ was fine before Kisa-san's deft fingers skittered down his sides, releasing his elbow to fumble with the button at the top of Yukina's zip, his dexterity undermined by the alcohol in his blood. "You want me? _Fine_." And his fingers finally found purchase in a tight pinch about Yukina's zipper before Kisa-san sank to his knees with more elegance than Yukina would have believed him capable of at this point.

Yukina watched his machinations, frozen with growing horror, and when Kisa-san slipped down, chin catching on the unlatched hasp of his belt as he leaned in to nuzzle across the tight, rough material covering Yukina's crotch, that was the snapping point--and he squatted down just far enough to shove his arms beneath Kisa-san's own to haul him back up, practically screeching in a hiss, "What the-- _Kisa-san_!"

Kisa-san kept his hold on the zipper, effectively zipping Yukina's pants back up when he was jerked to his feet, and he braced his free hand between them, pulling his head back to focus properly on Yukina as he frowned angrily, "The hell, what's the big idea?" He angled himself to the side, listing enough to tug the zip back down again, when Yukina's arms tightened their grip, chests brushing together in a tight embrace as Yukina attempted to keep Kisa-san from doing anything as ridiculously ill-advised as putting his hands--and mouth--in the remote vicinity of Yukina's cock.

"Kisa--san--you really--mustn't--" But with Kisa-san squirming in his grip trying to free himself, it was difficult to compose his thoughts into comprehensible phrases. "Honestly-- _stop it_."

"Why?!" Kisa-san whined, frustrated grunting shaded just beneath his tone, and he clenched his hands into fists as he fought Yukina's grip. "Just--let me--" He abruptly froze in place, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Yukina's chest as he caught his breath, and Yukina swallowed thickly; they were angled perfectly for Yukina to rest his chin on the crown of the head nestled against him, and it was torture not giving in. "I wanna blow you," he muttered pathetically, muffled voice a childish keening whine, like he was simply miffed the conbini had been out of his favorite flavor of Haagen-Dazs. He twisted around until he could look up into Yukina's face, eyes lidded and pupils wide in the low light. "C'mon, lemme go…"

Yukina tried to muster up some saliva, because his mouth was too dry and his voice too scratchy and raw now. "I--can't do that Kisa-san. You can't do that." He added, reflexively, "I'm sorry."

"I _want_ to, though," he reminded, fisting his hands in Yukina's shirt and giving an insistent tug. "Because--because I'm probably not gonna let myself get this drunk around you again, but I'm here now, so I may's well take advantage of it, and what's the use of getting pissed out of your skull if not to do all the stupid things you'd never have the nerve to press for sober?" And Yukina figured he would need a good week to parse that confession, but then Kisa-san had to go and add, "You wanna do something for me? Then _fine_." He lifted up onto his toes and dropped his voice to a sultry whisper, pitching his tone up into something all too innocently beguiling, "Let me _blow you_."

Yukina remained resolute, tuning out the tempting language, and tightened his grip. "I--I'm sorry, I just don't think it's a good idea to--" But it was obviously not the response Kisa-san had wanted, for he renewed his struggles with vigor, squirming and sliding and wriggling as best he could, and Yukina clamped down all the harder, wary of granting an opening until Kisa-san had come to his senses or at least _calmed down_ enough to be _talked_ into his senses.

He was just starting to consider how best to attempt to get Ryuu-san's attention to request a bit of backup with the situation, though, when Kisa-san shifted his leg, swinging it around one of Yukina's to the outer edge in an ostensible attempt to slip free of Yukina's grasp--and everything was turned on its head.

" _Ah!_ " It was hard to tell who gasped first, and Yukina tightened his hold on Kisa-san to almost painful force here, which only made things _worse_ as Kisa-san squirmed in place with a breathy grunt and brushed along Yukina's thigh for a second time, riding up until the friction caught him and they both realized what had happened with sickening clarity on Yukina's part and booze-addled glee on Kisa-san's. "K--Kisa-san…don't do…"

But Kisa-san was already slipping down again in Yukina's loosened grip, eyes narrow little slits and lips curled up with dawning realization that, trapped through he might be, he had the upper hand now. He didn't say anything, no words at least--but his mouth dropped open as he drew himself up, long and lean, along Yukina's thigh, pressing down to achieve that blessed friction until he crested at the hip and tipped up onto his toes to brush across Yukina's crotch with equal pressure, lips drawing back into a proud, knowing grin when Yukina took in a sharp breath. Then, he was down into a squat, repeating the motion in a slow, tantric dance meant to rouse and arouse and which was doing just that.

He drew up again, each repetition doing as much for his own arousal as Yukina's, and like a wave against grains of sand on a shore, so too wore down Yukina's will, his good sense battered on the one side by his drinks finally catching up to him and on the other by the unmistakeable hardness being pressed into his thigh as Kisa-san rutted against him slowly and methodically. He tried to find words, to force his lips into some semblance of protest, urging Kisa-san to think of where they were, of what he'd explained to Yukina in no uncertain terms back in that cold _genkan_ , but any such efforts were soundly stifled when Kisa-san tilted his head up and to the side as he drew up close, pressing their hips together as he slitted his lips over Yukina's in a deep, demanding kiss that drew Yukina back with him when he slid down to press in and up again, arms reaching up to loop around Yukina's neck to ease the connection.

With this new injection of touch and taste and _heat_ , Kisa-san's motions grew less calculated and teasing and steadily more frantic, desperate, ratcheting up in intensity with each pass until Kisa-san couldn't even be bothered to sink back down and draw himself up, instead just pressing close to Yukina and squirming needily, prominent erection tenting his pants and being drawn in rapidfire stacatto alongside Yukina's own to achieve the warm pressure he no longer had the patience to indulge in slowly.

Yukina didn't bother to warn Kisa-san when he felt the familiar twinge just behind his balls--the guy was beyond listening and had to be just on the cusp himself, and there was no way of getting more than a moan in edgewise with the way Kisa-san was devouring his lips, orgasm bearing down upon them both and urging them on to more lascivious means of achieving it. Kisa-san wasn't quite there yet, though, and he wasn't granting Yukina near enough of the pressure he needed to just _explode_ in a mass of passion and frustration and _fuck_ this was all he was ever going to get, wasn't it?

He slipped his hands down, loosening his grip on Kisa-san, and instead let his palms flit down to cup the ass still pistoning back and forth in a crude mockery of sex, because chilled night air and jean material and booze had no place in what they should be doing--yet here they were. Yukina frowned into the kiss, forcibly gentling it and denying Kisa-san further entry as he laid a series of soft kisses just along his lips, before dropping his jaw and slipping his tongue inside with a gasp of suction as he yanked Kisa-san forward, palms splayed across his ass, to crush their hips together just as he crested--and _fuck_ Kisa-san was coming, he could feel the bloom of moisture through the material, could hear it in the way he yelped into a long groan, even as he felt his own sticky release ruin his pants.

Kisa-san trembled in his arms for several long moments, slipping back down to earth--to reality--physically and mentally, and Yukina's lips missed his kiss the instant it faded in the chilly evening. They held their embrace, neither speaking, until Yukina could feel his breath returning to normal, a steady, reasonably inhale-exhale, and he wasn't sober, not by far, but he was sober _er_ , and he was really starting to wish he weren't. Maybe it would be worth it to stumble back into the bar for another few rounds before calling it an evening; now he had all new memories he needed to forget.

Kisa-san's fists clenched in his shirt material, tugging insistently--but not for attention, for...no reason at all, just pure frustration and a need to clench, to _crush_ , because Kisa-san's face was flushed and his frown was ugly and pathetic and his brows were knitting in irritation and disgust, not with Yukina, but with _everything_. With himself, most of all, for unfathomable reasons.

Yukina didn't need to apologize this time--because Kisa-san did it first, grunting to stifle a sob altogether inappropriate for his age as he buried his face in Yukina's chest, muttering thickly into the shirt material, "...I'm not doing a very good job of being a professional, am I...?"

And he didn't know how to respond to that, so he just let his nose bury itself into Kisa-san's hair as he inhaled deeply, because--what was the use of getting pissed out of your skull if not to do all the stupid things you'd never have the nerve to press for sober?


	11. Chapter 11

Kisa whimpered to himself, too soft for anyone within earshot to catch, as he stared longingly at one of the waiters slipping by with a tray of champagne flutes balanced expertly in one hand.

God he needed a drink.

Whatever it was he'd allowed himself to do with Yukina…he'd needed it--he _must_ have, he figured, because…it had helped, strangely enough. He didn't remember the evening too well, the weeks that had passed since and the booze in his blood that night having done wonders to spare him the gorier details of what he gathered had been a spectacularly humiliating display, but he could divine enough from Yukina's demeanor and the lessened tension between them.

Yukina was…lighter now, if that made any sense. Freer, easier, not quite the Yukina before everything had turned on its head, but close enough that Kisa could let the tension ease from his shoulders during meetings, could stop being so conscious of the distance between them when he leaned in to critique a certain panel, could stop jolting like he'd been shocked whenever his phone buzzed with an incoming text. The guy had even started sending pictures of his meals again--albeit with less frequency than before--so that had to mean something, right? This was…a good sign, right? That Kisa had done his job and successfully reminded his client of his place, of their roles, placing them back on even footing and in their appropriate positions with regard to one another.

Except if that were true in the least, he wouldn't be standing here, stiff in a suit he only wore a couple of times a year at most, in the middle of a glitzy, glamorous ballroom (because heaven forbid Marukawa give out bonuses to hard-working employees when there were authors to coddle with ritzy parties) having to all but physically restrain himself from tackling one of the waitstaff for a drink.

He hated these parties, he _really_ did. Ricchan was doing pretty well for a newbie, but then Kisa supposed he'd probably been to a dozen of these events over at Onodera Shuppan, so maybe this was in fact old hat to him. Familiar though the setting may have been to Kisa, though, it did nothing to make the whole affair any less tedious or stressful--because sure, the new authors got to schmooze and indulge in the canapés and get drunk on champagne and fruity reds and dry whites carted around by the waiters, but Kisa was stuck shuttling himself between different distribution and point-of-sales reps, having to send out a search party for Yukina every five minutes because the guy couldn't get it through his thick, perfect head that this wasn't so much a party to toast all of the new authors who'd joined Marukawa's ranks in the last fiscal year but an opportunity to make connections, get to know the people intimately involved in making an author's books really _sell_.

But then Yukina sidled past him, jacketed shoulder brushing Kisa's own as he passed, and Kisa nearly choked on his tongue and remembered _oh yeah_ there were definitely perks to having to stand around all night and watch someone who cut as nice a figure in a suit as Yukina did make small talk with those around him. Hands-off didn't mean eyes-off, after all, and their unspoken accord they seemed to have reached (which mostly involved resolutely Not Talking About It and was working out just fine thank-you-very-much) in no way barred Kisa from looking at what he couldn't touch.

So he looked the _hell_ out of Yukina.

They'd been milling around for a good couple of hours by now, and after a few short-winded speeches from the higher-ups (Isaka-san had been abruptly cut off mid-sentence when he'd droned on for what had apparently been too long), the guests had been released to wander the ballroom and soak up the atmosphere. Takano had been typically sharp in his reminders that tonight was work as much as any other day, that they weren't to indulge in any food or drink, and that they _were_ to lasso their charges and make the rounds to offer their _I look forward to a healthy working relationship_ s to any who might lend an ear.

But after the fifth introduction and exchange of business cards and the subsequent pleading look of _do we have to do_ more _of these?_ from Yukina, Kisa was losing his drive and had sent Yukina off to mingle while he made an excellent impression of a wallflower, keeping the guy in his sights to be sure they were seen together should Takano wander along and gripe about him staying on task.

They…were good again, he felt. He didn't remember too much, but he knew he'd overstepped his boundaries--knew that he'd done a perfectly horrendous job of being the mature one in their relationship, and yet Yukina had admirably taken up the yoke, as it were, and remained hands-off without being stand-offish, which Kisa was realizing he was…pretty okay with. This _didn't_ have to go pear-shaped, it seemed, and suddenly their critiques were going as well as they had before…well, _before_. He could get through this-- _they_ could get through this, and Yukina was going to be an amazing mangaka, a popular best-seller (and _holy shit_ Kisa couldn't wait to unleash this guy at an autograph event--he was going to boost Marukawa's sales _in general_ through the roof), and Kisa was going to be the one ensuring he got to the top and stayed there. Because he was capable, he was _not_ a loser, he'd just had a bad run of things--and now that he had his big chance, he wasn't going to let it go.

Yukina was…a good guy. A _really_ good guy; not just a reliable author, but a _decent human being_ , and Kisa honestly, in those moments when he allowed himself to think about such things, couldn't fathom what he saw in Kisa. Scrawny, foul-tempered, confidence issues--about the only thing he had going for himself was a decent ass and some considerable skill in bed when allowed to show off. But Yukina couldn't have known about any of that (could he?) when he'd made his awkward attempt at a confession, so…why?

No--the 'why' didn't matter, because it wasn't something to consider. Maybe in a few years…five, perhaps, after he'd made sure Yukina had a few hits under his belt and could handle a relationship…

He wiped a hand over his face, letting his groan wax a bit louder this time, and rubbed at his eyes. Fuck, what the hell was he doing? Mapping out Yukina's love life on a timeline, like he expected the guy to wait patiently until Kisa determined it was _acceptable_ for them to attempt a relationship together? Hell--a guy who looked like Yukina was going to be beating them off with a stick once he went public, a pretty face to go with an entertaining story that was already bumping up Emerald's sales almost 10% in the last quarter alone. 

This whole thing was screwed up from stem to stern--and the worst part was that Kisa still believed it was for the best. Which meant he really _was_ cursed--a gorgeous guy was all but throwing himself at Kisa, and he had to stay hands-off. It figured.

No, Yukina would shoot up in popularity, be the talk of the shoujo manga world, have fans and admirers throwing themselves at him; hell, Marukawa wouldn't be able to handle all the messages this guy was going to get. He was going to grow in name and talent, with Kisa at his back--and that's where he'd stay: behind Yukina. Never in front, never in the light of that damned sparkly aura that seemed to emanate from him. _Behind_ , because that's where a good editor belonged. And that was what Kisa _wanted_.

He just…hadn't yet figured out how to convince himself that he wanted it.

He frowned when a tinkling titter of laugher floated in one ear, glancing over to find Yukina right where he'd been for the past ten minutes: bounded on all sides by a group of female mangaka--two of whom he knew were _Sapphire_ lot--and engaged in what his audience probably took to be witty repartee but was really little more than tedious anecdata (if Kisa had to hear the one about how he'd had to shave his head in middle school for the baseball team one more time…).

The lighting hid the flush well, but Kisa knew that part of the reason for the group's high spirits was, well, _spirits_ , as everyone in the circle crowded around Yukina--as well as Yukina himself--was nursing a flute or wine glass of their own, their giggles and flirty commentary growing all the more brazen as the liquid level lowered. 

Kisa shivered--it was revolting, watching him work this way, having to see all these women cooing over him because he happened to be a (charming, gorgeous, affable, talented, about-to-make-a-huge-splash-with-his-first-volume-release-at-the-end-of-the-month) male shoujo mangaka. And if they weren't bad enough, Yukina himself was hardly much better, flashing that grin left and right, flagging down waiters to refill his audience's drinks as he played the gentleman, poking and prodding the conversation to involve the women draped over him because that was the polite thing to do and thereby winning him all the more fawning accolades. Kisa knew he tended to get _handsy_ when he'd had too many drinks--not that, he supposed distantly, Kisa himself was much better--and wouldn't that be _just_ the cherry on top of this evening, having Yukina embarrass himself with one of these chicks? Fuck this.

He cleared his throat as he approached the throng, raising his voice to be heard and picking a moment just before Yukina was set to launch into another likely thrilling tale. "Ah--excuse me…? Yukina-sensei…" A few of the girls on the outer edge of the group turned to eye Kisa, brows raised in judgement. "…Oi _Yukina_." He stood on his tiptoes in an effort to be seen, waving a hand for attention.

"Ah!" Yukina made no effort to shield the delight in his voice, and Kisa felt a hand latch about his wrist and jerk him through the crowd, one arm looping around his neck in a loose stranglehold to pull him close. "Kisa-sa~n, we were just talking about you~"

This close, Kisa could _smell_ the alcohol, and Yukina was edging from tipsy into nearly drunk, and okay yes that was the small of Kisa's back those fingers were sliding down now and depending on what it was they'd 'just been talking about,' this was--"Let's--" He cleared his throat again when his voice cracked. "Let's--just call it a night, yeah?" He turned on his heel quickly to shrug off Yukina's hand from where it was creeping lower down his back and gripped his wrist tight in both hands, tugging him forward insistently and pasting on his most amicable smile to coax Yukina to follow.

"Eh?" Yukina's short, confused peep was accompanied by a chorus of disappointed groans as the girls crowded in close again in an effort to block their retreat. "But we were just…"

"Sorry, sorry," Kisa waved away their audience with an air of mixed apology and confidence, hoping to put them off by slipping into Head Editor mode, "But Yukina-sensei has a big day tomorrow--it's been a lovely evening though!" He slipped around behind Yukina now, settling both hands at his hips and shoving, steering Yukina toward the huge double doors at the ballroom entrance and ducking his head in apology. "Oh--and please remember to support him by picking up a copy of his first volume out at the end of the month!"

No sense in letting all this attention go to waste, after all.

* * *

"Can't believe you…" Kisa grumbled, tapping his foot while they waited for the elevator to arrive in the lobby; with some 60 floors to the building, the elevators were constantly busy whizzing up and down, it could be a while before they were serviced--and Yukina's kind of dreamy confusion right now wasn't helping anything. "Honestly, you'd think you'd know how to pace yourself."

"Paced m'self fine," Yukina grumbled contrarily, tracing the 'up' button with one finger. "You didn't have to drag me out of there, you know."

Kisa crossed his arms, staring up at the numbers lighting up above the row of elevators; most of the authors based in the Kantou region would be taking trains or taxis back home this evening, with only those who'd had to make a reasonable trip for the event bothering to let themselves be put up in the hotel for the evening, but Kisa had managed to convince Yukina to take advantage of the comped room Marukawa offered all of the new authors invited to the evening's event ("C'mon--you're a newbie shoujo mangaka; when the hell are you going to have an opportunity to spend a night in the Teito Hotel again?"). All he needed to do now was get Yukina upstairs and in his room, with strict orders not to come out again except for something to soothe a hangover in the morning.

He tensed when Yukina sidled closer, the fine material of his suit jacket brushing lightly against Kisa's arm when he leaned down. "I was having a good time."

Kisa batted him away and took a step to the side, cocking his head to glare up at him from the corner of his eye. "That much was obvious." He wrinkled his nose. "And what did that mean--you were _just talking about me_?"

Yukina shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "They wanted to know who my editor was--so I told them it was you. 'N then they asked me questions about you."

Kisa's brows furrowed in wary worry. "…Like what?"

"Like if you were single." Kisa must've made a sound--he heard something sharp and choked, so that was probably it--for Yukina's sly grin widened. "I told 'em you were married to your job."

"D--" Kisa bristled, "Don't go just--making shit up about me. I don't appreciate being your wingman without consenting to it."

An elevator behind them dinged its arrival, and Yukina took a few steps backward into the car, brows lifted teasingly. "I thought a wingman was supposed to get his partner a date?"

Kisa snorted and followed him onto the elevator. "Like you need my help to get a date."

Yukina turned, edging Kisa into a rear corner of the elevator as he mashed the 'close doors' button, and his face washed over dark. "Exactly. I neither want nor need your help, Kisa-san. I should think I'd made that obvious."

Kisa felt his stomach jolt and couldn't tell if it was from the elevator's quick rise or Yukina's position. He pressed himself back against the wall, regardless, in an effort to put as much space between them as possible. "O--Oi, what's the big idea…"

Yukina visibly wilted, frowning, and stepped back. "…You're acting strange tonight, Kisa-san."

Kisa sputtered in offense, "Ex-- _cuse_ me? _I'm_ acting weird?" He bristled and shook a finger in Yukina's face. "You're the one who was--" but he cut himself off, because what was he going to say? What, really, had Yukina done tonight that had been out of the ordinary? He was everything Yukina had ever seemed to be: charming and congenial, silver-tongued but without an ounce of ill-will, a guy who seemed to have no clue what he could induce others to do with just a wink and a smile. Hell, they'd probably sell more manga just slapping his face on the cover of his books.

No, Yukina wasn't acting weird--he was…being Yukina. And Yukina just happened to be _weird_ by default, but that didn't mean that anything he'd been doing--all the flirting and gabbing and chit-chatting with the female mangaka--had been…all that terribly _inappropriate_.

Which meant it had been grating for reasons entirely unrelated to work. 

He licked his lips and changed tacks. "A--anyway, I hope you realize you completely wasted the evening." Yeah, he could do that--it was easy being the hard-ass editor around an incompetent author. This was his safehouse. He straightened up and took a menacing step forward. "This wasn't just some party to blow smoke up your ass--" He poked Yukina in the chest, flicking a button on his dress shirt. "You were supposed to _network_."

Yukina frowned and opened his mouth to respond--but then tottered unsteadily on his legs as the elevator quickly drew to a stop, a melodic female voice intoning their floor as the doors opened to release them into a plushly carpeted hallway. Kisa brushed past, shoving a hand into his inside coat pocket to palm the little envelope holding Yukina's card key he'd received when he'd checked the guy in at reception earlier in the evening.

"I was--doing a perfectly good job networking," came the mumbled protest from behind as Kisa stalked down the hallway, eyes flicking back and forth over the numbers on the doors-- _5508, 5510, 5512_ \--"and if it was so very important I make my rounds, what were you doing hanging off on the side the whole time?" He could _hear_ the confusion in his voice as Yukina struggled to divine just what had Kisa in a snit; it was kind of sad, and a lot pathetic. "You're my editor; aren't you supposed to--"

But then Yukina stopped speaking, and Kisa released a breath, drawing up short as he compared the number on the door with that on the keycard. He swallowed. "This is your roo--"

"You were jealous."

The card nearly slipped from Kisa's sweaty grip, and he pinched his fingers tight as the air in his lungs froze.

It wasn't accusatory or biting, wasn't spiteful or derisive, it was…with dawning realization, a kind of awestruck _Oh_ moment that somehow hurt more than any sneering commentary because _fuck_ he'd been so close, so _close_ to getting out of this night event-free. He didn't need this, he didn't need _Yukina_ \--

"Kisa-san." There was soft rustling as Yukina approached from behind, a solid wall coming up to rest just against his back. "Am I wrong?"

And all Kisa wanted just now was for this night to be over--he wanted Yukina to get inside his room and for there to be a thick hotel door between them, he wanted to forget how slick he looked with his gelled hair in carefully coiffed spikes and sharp black suit under a splash of cologne that _god_ was going to keep Kisa up tonight. He wanted _so many things_ , and he couldn't have a damn one of them. 

Yukina was so close, Kisa could hear each inhalation and exhalation, and his hand trembled where he held the card key clenched tight in his grip. He could feel the almost-ticklish ghosting of fingers along the thick fabric covering his arm as Yukina reached to turn him round, bring Kisa to face him, and--

"Don't--touch me," he ground out, preemptively knocking away the hand and brushing the key card across the sensor until it responded with a burbling beep. He pressed his weight down on the handle and shoved his way inside, explaining with evident irritation, "I always wind up doing something stupid when you touch me." He swung around, making every effort not to appear as if he were cowering behind the door--but probably failing--and kept his eye trained on Yukina, who now stood framed dark in the doorway, the soft inset lighting in the hallway providing an almost glow in place of his absent sparkles. Kisa hardened his features, strengthening his resolve, and held out the card key. "…Here."

Yukina's gaze slipped slowly to the card key, then back to Kisa's face, expression blank. "…You won't answer, then?"

Kisa pursed his lips, wary of getting into anything--he needed to turn over the key and get the hell out of here _now_. "Your _key_ , Yukina." If the guy didn't take it in the next five seconds, he was going to toss it and make a break for it--and not for the first time, he registered the difference in their sizes, noting with some trepidation that if Yukina really didn't want him to leave…he could very easily keep Kisa from doing so.

Yukina wanted answers, explanations, and Kisa didn't _have_ those right now. All he had was stupid, petty-- _fine, fuck, yes_ \--jealousy, and that was doing neither of them any good, not in the short-term and sure as hell not in the long-term. To confess that seeing Yukina bob and weave through a crowd of admirers, stomach churning with the knowledge that they could have him, really _have_ him, have his smiles and chuckles and glittering glances and all of that sharp, focused attention, and Kisa could but stand on the side, a plain little dark wallflower who had to support from the shadows…it would undo everything he'd managed to build up so far. Acrid envy was already eating away at him--so to admit to it? Would ruin _everything_.

And so a part of him was intensely relieved when Yukina stepped forward, snatched the key card from his hand as he breezed past into the room proper, and reminded him in a sharp reprimand, "You have no right to be jealous."

It wasn't a Yukina he'd ever seen before, and the way it sent a curdle of interest juddering through his abdomen was humiliating on several levels--hadn't he been around this guy long enough to stop finding new ways to be attracted to him?

Kisa flushed with frustration but held his tongue and stepped around, one foot out the door--he was almost home-free, just _don't engage_. Don't rise to his--

"You can't have the best of both worlds, Kisa-san." The soft hiss of a zipper as Yukina squatted down to inspect the contents of the overnight bag he'd had brought up earlier. "You can't push me away while still keeping one hand on me to hold me back." He _tsk_ ed softly. "It's not _fair_." And Kisa couldn't tell if Yukina was referring to Kisa's petty, selfish reactions or the situation in general--maybe both. He wouldn't blame the guy.

Still, he didn't much appreciate being painted with this--selfish brush, even if it wasn't entirely wrong of Yukina to do so. He squared his jaw. "Tough shit. Sometimes life isn't fair."

And _oh_ that had been the wrong thing to say--so _so_ wrong, for he could all but _hear_ Yukina whirling on him, voice raised, "No-- _you're_ not being fair. There's a difference." Kisa winced, gaze shooting out into the hall, and god he needed to leave now, but Yukina was still going, "You make all these claims about--wanting a _normal_ working relationship, that anything we do could jeopardize my work--" Kisa finally gave in, quickly shutting the door and bringing their argument in behind four thick walls before Yukina could make a _scene_. "--but you won't admit that you're the one doing all the damage--"

" _Me_?" Kisa nearly shrieked. "I'm doing damage? You're the one who started this in the first place with your--" He waved a hand. "Where the hell did you get it into your head that dating someone charged with helping you advance your career was a _good_ idea?" He sniffed, lip curling slightly. "Because I'm not that kind of guy, you know."

Yukina shied away, frowning to himself. "I didn't think…it was only, I never expected…"

"Right." Kisa crossed his arms, keeping himself backed against the door for quick escape as soon as this matter was settled. "So _I_ did the thinking--and sometimes I have to pick one head over the other to think with." That Yukina quickly blinked and glanced away, as if the lewdness of the suggestion was too much for him to handle, was undeniably kind of cute--and Kisa hated that he noticed it. He let his shoulders slump as the fatigue from the evening finally caught up with him, compounded with the exhaustion of having this conversation yet again. "…I know what you want me to say, Yukina."

Yukina's features hardened, and he finished for Kisa, "…But you won't say it."

"I _can't_."

"Because it wouldn't be true."

"Because _it wouldn't be true_ ," Kisa repeated, granting him this allowance. "And _that_ wouldn't be fair. Unless you want me to lie to you." Who knew, maybe Yukina _did_ want that--but he hadn't wanted a kiss unless it was real, and he probably wouldn't want _I don't feel that way about you_ unless it was real either. If he made these stipulations, Kisa reasoned, he needed to be able to endure their consequences.

Yukina turned on his heel and plodded over to the bed, settling down on the edge with his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. "Of-- _course_ I don't want you to have to lie just to placate me, but…" He cocked his head to the side, staring into space, seeing all the far-off ways this could go wrong probably. "I'm tired, Kisa-san, and--" He snapped his head up, gaze sharp and accusing again, "--and that's all the more reason for you to have no place griping at me for enjoying myself for an evening." Kisa frowned, not quite following, and Yukina continued with renewed strength and passion in his arguments, "I-- _care_ , Kisa-san. I do, I have feelings and emotions, and if you're so very adamant you…can't carry the same for me, even though Ryuu-san says you break your rule all the time--"

"I--I do _not_ \--" Kisa sputtered in offense, then amended with a bright flush, "Not _all_ the time, just the…whatever."

Yukina fixed him with a steady gaze, and Kisa felt his blood start to run hotter--this was the look Yukina always got on him just before…everything went to shit. "If you're insistent that you can't return my feelings, then you _must_ give me _something_." Kisa swallowed thickly, feeling the weight of responsibility, guilt, settling across his shoulders. "If you won't _make_ me move on…you have to _let_ me."

And he was right, of course, because what right did Kisa have to say _no, you'll never have me, but you'd damn well better want me for always_? He was an asshole, yeah, but he wasn't a _complete_ tool, right? He always made sure to pay back in kind when receiving favors in bed, he always happily picked up the tab at a love hotel if the guy had bought him drinks, and he always gave a guy a chance if he manned up and approached Kisa, even if they weren't really his type. He was a fucking _saint_ in many ways, he reminded himself. So this? Yeah…Yukina deserved this.

But it wasn't about what was _right_ , he argued to himself, and then he was saying it aloud and sounding all the more childish for it: "Those women--those mangaka, they were only fawning over you because you're--an attractive, young, single guy in their line of business." He wrung his hands together, frowning at the sheen of sweat forming. "…Those are hard to come by for obvious reasons."

Really _really_ hard to come by, even; guys flocked to shounen manga generally, so for someone like Yukina to practically drop into their laps? It was a boon none could overlook. You didn't just come across hard-working guys in shoujo manga who had their dreams in their sights and were working their asses off to make it happen but weren't full of themselves or overly confident or jerks underneath it all.

Someone who understood the manga world, who understood the way you had to work yourself to the bone to get ahead, who understood that sometimes you screwed up and there was nothing you could do about it and it _sucked_ all the more because the fault was squarely on your shoulders, who understood that shoujo manga wasn't all dreamy, sparkly back panels and pink-hued covers and that what went into an amazing product was in itself _more_ amazing than what resulted. Those were really hard to come by.

And probably the only kind of person Kisa could ever see himself with in the long-term. If he'd been the long-term sort--and he never had been.

"…It was nice feeling wanted for an evening," Yukina muttered bitterly, and that was _it_.

Kisa stalked forward, face twisted in frustration, "When will you get it through your thick skull that I'm not doing this because I _don't want you_? Just because I--I can't _show_ it doesn't mean I don't _feel_ it, dammit!" He ran a hand through his hair, clenching in an effort to bring himself back down through the pinch. "What--do you want some _shoujo manga_ style confession? You want us to stand in some courtyard while sakura petals blow all around us and have me shout out that _fuck_ yes I think that you're amazing and--and hard-working and devoted even when people don't deserve it, that you _care_ too damn much for your own good and are stubborn to a fault and just-- _look at you._ " He waved a hand at Yukina, gesturing from head to toe, and shook his head in defeat. "That should be illegal." Yukina glanced down at himself quickly, hesitantly patting down his suit jacket with a confused frown, and Kisa sighed. "There--are _so_ many things I admire about you…so don't you ever think that it's because I don't _want_ you badly enough. I'd be an idiot not to want you." He didn't add petulantly, _Anyone would, really._

Yukina's frown softened into that familiar knowing disappointment, a sure sign of impending victory on Kisa's part, and they could put this matter to bed for the evening to deal with it again when it inevitably bubbled over in another few weeks. "…Then…"

Kisa huffed, " _What_?"

Yukina hunched his shoulders together and ducked his head, "I just…don't understand how you can say those things, suggest that you…and then still not…"

An argument, only half-formed, but Kisa had been expecting it, because Yukina had _told_ him--that he wouldn't back down, not until he _understood_. "And it's like I _keep telling you_. If we did--if anything, any… _relationship_ or whatever got in the way of you putting out a great product--"

"But--it already _is_ in the way!" Yukina snapped, waving a hand in the general direction of the door. "You think that--that _this_ is the best we can be? You think I want to have a best-selling manga if I have to go through _this_ to get it?" He frowned, turning on Kisa. "You keep saying that you're afraid, that you'll be so _smitten_ or something that you won't be able to give me proper critique or make smart decisions about my work--and while I'm flattered, I still think you're full of shit, because the Kisa-san I know would find a way to make it _work_." His frown shifted into one of sheer offense as he added, "And I'm disappointed you seem to think so little of me that I'd allow that to happen on my watch."

Kisa balled his fists, feeling his ire rising. "I--don't think little of _you_ at all! I think--" He took a step back and glanced around, anywhere but at Yukina, before wiping his hands over his face and groaning. "I think--little of _myself_." Because it had never been about Yukina not being able to come through, never. Yukina had demonstrated that he could _handle it_ , he could be the bigger man and not succumb to petty jealousies and be unable to restrain himself should things turn sour. Hadn't every _wrong_ thing they'd done so far been _Kisa's_ fault? "I just--I don't _know_ , okay? I don't know how to be in a relationship--I'm sorry. I don't know how--how to _not_ fuck things up, how to balance my personal life and my professional life as it is, and I sure as hell wouldn't know how to balance them if they were so, you know--" He wove his fingers together, "-- _connected_ like this."

He forced his feet forward, trudging across the thick, plush carpet, and settled at the edge of the bed next to Yukina, staring ahead at nothing. "…I don't know…how to be good to someone. And to accept them being good to me. I've never had to--" He waved a hand, because his thoughts were starting to get muddled, and he wasn't even sure what the point of this all was anymore, but these words just kept coming and there was no point in trying to stop them now. "--I just, I don't get how I'm supposed to live my life and you're supposed to live yours and we're supposed to be _separate_ but _together_. It just--" He shook his head. "It doesn't make sense…"

His life was a constant cycle of working himself into a waking coma and then fucking it all away over a weekend until he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed enough to attempt it again--who the hell in their right mind would put up with that? Maybe he _did_ think little of Yukina--the guy had some questionable taste, it was clear. 

"Ryuu-san told me…" Yukina began softly, voice louder in the quiet room than Kisa had been expecting it, and he glanced up in question, "He said, that you were…" He cocked his head, seeming to search for the right phrasing. "…Complicated." And Kisa wrinkled his nose, but didn't refute it. "That you liked to--ah." He licked his lips and had the gall to _smile_ , like he actually found this amusing. "Liked to…make the first move."

Kisa flushed deeply, stiffening in place, and was suddenly all too aware of how close he'd let himself draw to Yukina. "That's--he shouldn't be--it's none of his…"

"Ah--" Yukina shifted, raising his hands defensively to ward off any worry, "It's not like that, he just…" He shook his head. "It's only…he seemed to suggest that you…I believe his words were, 'wouldn't even know what to do with someone who wanted him as much as he wanted them.'" And this was doing absolutely _nothing_ to make this situation more palatable--so Kisa grumbled under his breath and shifted to the edge of the bed to stand and take his leave--he'd humored the guy long enough for this evening.

But Yukina shot a hand out, gripping him tight by the wrist, before immediately releasing him and staring down at his hand in horror, drawing it back to his chest. "Kisa-san--" he started, desperation thick in his voice. "Kisa-san, if you'd only…show me, tell me what to do? You've done an amazing job guiding me in my work, so maybe for this, too…?"

There it was--the offer. He thought this was all Kisa's screwed up mental priorities holding him back from taking that which was freely offered just because _he_ hadn't gotten to make the first move. And now Yukina was giving him the toss, opening himself up, making himself vulnerable just like he thought Kisa liked 'em--which was bull; Kisa liked to make the first move, but he didn't like them _throwing_ themselves at him. It didn't suit Yukina, regardless.

He squared his shoulders. "I can't." And before Yukina's features could fully wash over with that sick shade of defeat, he continued, "I can't because--I don't…know _how_." His fists were tight at his sides as he slanted his glance to the wall; why the hell couldn't he keep his focus on Yukina's face right now? It was a beautiful face; it'd be nice to be able to drain some small bit of enjoyment from this train wreck. "I've never--been in love. Not seriously, not that I can tell. I mean, I wouldn't even know it if I were in it, so…" 

He scratched at the back of his head, stepping around this next bit as carefully as possible. "But--I still, I just…if you say you like me, that you're…in love with me, then… I like that, I think. I don't know why, I just do. And I know it's not fair, and I know saying that kind of shit to you makes me a jerk because I'm sitting here telling you I can't have a relationship with you at the same time, but I can't help it, so." He nodded with finality. "There you go."

He hazarded a glance back to Yukina's face, cringing internally with wary worry that this was just going to make the guy even more insufferable and result in even more touching that would, undoubtedly, lead to even more Bad Choices. 

"…Kisa-san."

"What?"

Yukina twiddled his thumbs between his legs, staring down at the carpet. "…Would you ever be able to forgive me if I said…if I said I would give up my manga career if I could be with you?"

He didn't look up, which was probably for the best--because Kisa was having a mental _snap_ , and he didn't need a beautiful face distracting him from the tongue-lashing choking at his throat. "You-- _what_? Fuck no! There's no way in _hell_ I'm letting you use this as an excuse to--"

"No, then?"

" _Hell_ no, I--"

"Good." He stood in place, drawing up tall and lanky and seeming to go on forever, and somewhere in Kisa's mind echoed the good-natured growl of _freaking giant…_ "Because I wouldn't be able to either. And--conversely, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for giving up on you just because it might adversely affect my work." He stepped in close, and Kisa couldn't bring himself to do more than just swallow thickly, neck craning back to take Yukina in. "…You've complimented me several times on my work ethic, my tenacity." He brought one hand up, fingers ghosting along Kisa's jawline, and _fuck_ this wasn't good at all, this was very, very not good--this was almost touching, and that was almost doing something _stupid_. "I don't care how complicated you are--and I don't care that you seem to think you don't know how…to do this." And _fuck_ , he was brushing a strand of hair behind Kisa's ear and it felt ten times better than such a mundane gesture had any business feeling. "I know you don't think little of me, Kisa-san. And--I know you feel like you can't help any of this, but--" He swallowed and let his lips quirk up at one side in an entirely too endearing manner. "--I feel like someone said…you can't help yourself when you're in love."

The dreamy cloud lifted from Kisa's mind abruptly, like fog slashed through by a ray of sunlight, and he frowned with clarity, remembering distantly, "… _You_ said that, you idiot."

And the quirk broadened, grin annoyingly dazzling--which of course now Yukina had to go and _caress_ , sweeping a thumb over Kisa's cheek and forcing Kisa to bite his own tongue to keep from sighing and leaning into it. "So maybe…you love me a little? Maybe if--" He lifted a brow. "--if I help you not screw this up, you can love me a lot?"

That honestly scared Kisa--well, not scared, just…worried. Concerned him. Like uncharted waters--he'd never _loved_ someone; he'd loved the things men did to him, loved the thrill of the chase and the giddy rush of a fast-paced encounter, he'd _loved_ that moment when he'd thought he'd _finally_ gotten his break, seeing the numbers on that spreadsheet lined up and converting it into his head, millions and millions of yen that translated to more work, more recognition, more _more_.

But _love_? This kind of intimidating unconditional emotion that left him feeling woozy and overwhelmed when Yukina reminded him of it? That was…

"It's not an excuse, Kisa-san, not a source of blame--loving someone. It's…drive. A reason. A _goal_." And…he wanted Yukina to give that up? No, that was…that wasn't right… "I know you don't like accepting help from me--because you think I'm coddling you, but that's not true. I just… _want_ to." He shrugged. "You don't know how to do this? Let me help show you." 

Kisa pursed his lips and turned his head away, but didn't draw from the touch despite knowing he should. "…I take it back."

"Eh?" Yukina's fingers started to fall away, like he'd lost the strength to keep trying, and Kisa immediately snapped his hand up and held it in place, grimacing as he turned into the caress--because it _hurt_.

"I _hate_ how stubborn you are." He weakly lifted his free hand to gesture vaguely at Yukina's face. "…And that should still be illegal." He tightened his grip, lacing his fingers through Yukina's and firming his lips into a thin line as he locked eyes--and Yukina reached out with his own free hand, gently gripping about the wrist as he brought Kisa's other palm to his cheek, turning into it and breathing deep because fair was fair, apparently. "I'm really not complicated, you know."

Yukina laughed, soft and deep and with a timbre that made Kisa's stomach do flip-flops. "You're not?"

He shook his head weakly. "I'm just…high-maintenance."

"'S okay. I'm told I'm a hard worker." And Kisa didn't move a muscle when Yukina ducked down, gaze flicking back and forth between Kisa's eyes and lips as he waited for permission that Kisa never intended to give.

His breathing was coming a bit faster with the anticipation, though, and he warned as a last-ditch effort, "And I don't know if I mentioned this, but…I'm an asshole."

Yukina just snorted softly and tilted his head at that angle Kisa had tacitly taught him in the genkan and again outside Ryuu-san's bar. "I appreciate a challenge," he reminded, breath rushing hot over Kisa's flushed cheeks. "Besides…I don't think we've anywhere left to go but up..."

Kisa rolled his eyes, sliding his hand down around Yukina's neck to pull him in sharp as he tilted his head up to slot their lips together because Yukina was taking his damned time and enough was enough, if this was going to happen. "Your dialogue's as cheesy as always, Yukina-sensei…"

Yukina's brows furrowed in offense, and his lips parted in preparation to refute a statement he damn well knew Kisa was right about--so Kisa cut him off before he could embarrass himself by pressing their lips together, soft and gentle as he could stand just now, because for once he was going to allow himself to _enjoy_ this. He hadn't a clue if this was the right thing to do, and very much doubted it was the _wise_ thing to do, but Yukina made a convincing argument, and Kisa _wanted_ to believe it, he really did.

So he tried, let himself just for a short while forget about publishing deadlines and print-run decision meetings and obi designs and instead slipped his hands up and around Yukina's neck, fingers flitting at the prickly bits of hair at his nape, which flushed hot beneath Kisa's fingertips. As he flexed, lifting up onto his toes, he released a soft, short moan into Yukina's mouth, hoping he sounded enticing and not desperate, and Yukina responded to the pressure by squatting just a hair and slipping his tongue inside to stroke against Kisa's, deepening the kiss like he'd done back at Kisa's apartment.

The tension in his neck relieved with the change in angle, Kisa smiled against Yukina's lips, almost tempted to pull back and pat him on the head with a breathy _good boy_. Instead, he opted to show his appreciation for Yukina's obliging consideration by letting his hands fall away from Yukina's neck, skittering down the fine form Yukina cut in his suit until they dropped into the space between their bodies, fingers groping blindly until they fell across the smooth faux mother-of-pearl buttons of Yukina's vest, blithely popping them open one by one. When the material fell loosely open, he slid his hands back up, attempting to ease off Yukina's vest and jacket in one fell swoop.

He could feel Yukina frowning against his lips, confusion made evident in a soft protesting grunt as he tried to pull back and away from Kisa's leisurely kiss. "Kisa-…san?" He stopped cooperating and stiffened his shoulders to keep Kisa from fully stripping him of the garments. "What…are you…" 

Kisa was horrified with the urge that welled up within him to just bite his lower lip and _giggle_ \--he hadn't had a drop to drink this evening, what the hell was wrong with him?--at Yukina's reaction, and he settled instead for allowing himself to quirk the corner of his lips up into a cocky smirk, tilting his head just to the side and raising one brow. "I wasn't lying you know." Yukina's brows drew together, suspicion darkening with each passing breath, and Kisa settled his hands at Yukina's hips, side-stepping as if on a dance floor to steer Yukina around until his back faced the bed. "I really did want to blow you. At Ryuu-san's. I wasn't drunk--" He stopped himself and flushed lightly at Yukina's arched brow. "Okay, I was definitely drunk, but I still…" He licked his lips. "So you should just let me do it this time."

Yukina's fingers tensed where they rested just on Kisa's shoulders, warmth palpable through layers of fabric, and Kisa had the brief, fleeting sensory memory of those hands stroking him through his sweats in his genkan; suddenly, he wanted to know more than anything what Yukina _felt like_ , how his body, his bare flesh, twitched and responded, not disguised under layers of clothing in a dingy, dark alley and not denied at the last moment by moral superiority rearing its head.

Yukina swallowed thickly, eyes darting around Kisa's face and breath coming more quickly now. "I thought… I thought you said, it wasn't something you could press for sober…" His mouth opened and closed a few times in quick succession, like it pained him to remind Kisa of this point. And who knew, maybe it did.

Kisa pursed his lips, irritated that while he'd managed to work around the 'Kisa of now', he was still going to have to deal with circumventing the 'Kisa of a couple of weeks ago' as well before he could get Yukina's pants around his ankles. "You often listen to the drunken ramblings of someone who doesn't know a good thing when it tries to jerk him off in his own genkan?" Yukina blanched, and Kisa allowed himself to snort in amusement, lips twitching up into something close to a genuine smile, maybe the first one he'd enjoyed in a while. "I know you think you're being a gentleman right now--" He moved his hands to Yukina's shoulders and pressed down, urging him to sit on the edge of the bed. "--But you have to trust me when I tell you you're really convincing and…" He slid his palms back, slipping them under the jacket and vest material suggestively as before, but pressing no further. "…That I'm saying I'd appreciate your help. If you're serious about offering it."

A fleeting look of panic flickered over Yukina's features before quickly resolving to an almost giddy excitement, and Kisa could almost hear his brain whirring to life as it started to settle in what Kisa was suggesting--and Kisa hastened to add soberly, "Just, I don't know that I can give you…you know, everything you want, and--and I'm not sure how this is supposed to work, because I honestly still worry that something will come up and this'll wind up blowing up in our faces, which I'm not quite sure you _get_ , and it's really--"

But then Yukina's lips were on his and a hand was cradling the back of his head, long nimble fingers threading through his short-cropped dark locks and a searching tongue gently sliding against his own followed by soft suckling pressure as they parted again. The fingers massaged mesmerizing little circles in his scalp, and he whispered roughly through passion-plumped lips, "Whatever you want then, Kisa-san," as he rolled his shoulders to shrug off the jacket and vest.

Kisa gathered up the overclothes where they fell and haphazardly tossed them away--Yukina wouldn't be wearing them again this evening, and the dry cleaners could take care of any wrinkles. With one hand at the back of Yukina's neck to keep him steady when Kisa pressed in for another distracting kiss, finally letting himself relax a bit more as he slipped into familiar shoes, he used his free hand to work at the fastenings to Yukina's slacks. More complicated than jeans, he huffed sharply in irritation when Yukina smiled at his inability to smoothly navigate the fastenings with a knowing, "I thought you were good at this…?"

Kisa shot him a glare, batting away the hand Yukina had dropped between them to help and returning, "You really want to start something with the guy who's about to put your cock in his mouth?" and that shut Yukina up rather effectively, all pretense melting away as he settled back, palms flat on the mattress for support, and watched Kisa get to work in unblinking silence. It was almost comical, the way the guy could hide so much passion inside of himself, but when called upon to face the simple mechanical aspects of _sex_ , he clammed right up like a grade-schooler. 

Kisa finally managed to resolve the fastener on Yukina's pants, tapping his hip to urge Yukina to lift up and then smoothly stripping off the pants and boxers beneath in one swift maneuver. Yukina yelped sharply, scrambling back onto the bed in surprise and stilling only when Kisa grabbed his wrist and gave him a _look_. He colored brightly and glanced away, offering by way of explanation, "I just…wasn't expecting…"

Kisa just snorted softly and tapped his thighs apart before settling between them, grateful for the barrier of thick fabric and plush carpet beneath his knees. " _Now_ you're shy?" And when he thought about it--that first time in the genkan, he'd only palmed Kisa through his pants, and they'd frotted fully clothed in that alley behind Ryuu-san's place. Maybe he _was_ shy. Kisa kept his eyes trained on Yukina's, rubbing his cheek against the sensitive inner flesh of his thigh and being sure his breath rolled over the exposed skin when he spoke. "…You know, we don't have to--"

"Please!" Yukina's voice broke, and his expression made it clear he just wanted to burrow under the covers of the expansive bed his room had been fitted with. "I mean--I'm not…shy, I was just surprised--s-so please don't think I don't appreciate ah…this…what you're offering, because really…" He swallowed thickly and nodded firmly, as if reassuring himself that he did in fact truly want his cock sucked. "Please," he repeated, with a bit less asking and a bit more begging, and that was about when Kisa lost it.

He wondered for a fleeting moment if Yukina had ever had anyone do this to him--surely someone who looked like _that_ had to have people launching themselves at his crotch begging for the honor at least two or three times a day, right? But the way he comported himself, so new and naive and almost _innocent_ \--hell, even if it were his 500th blowjob, Kisa didn't care just at the moment because Yukina made it _feel_ like this was his first, and for once, Kisa felt like he had the upper hand with the guy. He wasn't on the run anymore--he was on the attack.

Yukina had shown excellent restraint thus far, and even sitting here bare-assed on the bed, exposed for all to see and faced with the impending prospect of getting off rather enjoyably, he was only half hard, the beginnings of arousal only just pinking the flesh as the shaft flooded with blood. Kisa shifted closer, laving his tongue languidly over his palm before he reached out to help nature along.

Yukina hissed at the first contact, wincing as if it pained him to have Kisa touching him, but he never once looked away, not even when Kisa broke eye contact to focus on the task quite literally at hand. Maybe he was studying Kisa's technique; maybe he'd repay the favor at some point--Kisa couldn't remember the last time he'd had someone go down on him that hadn't been a bitter disappointment--or maybe he was just dumbfounded that ten minutes ago they'd been at each other's throats and now Kisa was working to generate more saliva so he could get to work sucking him off. He wouldn't blame the guy if it was the latter--it was certainly something Kisa was marveling at mentally himself.

Still, this--whatever it was--was better than lying to himself, pushing bits of Yukina away, the parts which claimed feelings for Kisa, and demanding only the professional side when what made Yukina's work so amazing was the fact that he put his _whole_ self into what he did. Kisa hadn't the first clue how this was going to work, but Yukina's confidence was infectious, and he felt almost _giddy_ as he stretched his jaw and took Yukina into his mouth.

He'd been worried for a moment that the sensation, the roiling pleasure, would cause Yukina to spasm and thrust up, treating Kisa's mouth like his own personal fucktoy--which while likely enjoyable for the blow job recipient was _not_ a fun experience for the giver and left them disinclined to repeat the favor, this Kisa knew from personal experience. But Yukina simply threw his head back, clenched his fingers into tight fists, and released a voiceless groan before quickly re-fixing his gaze on Kisa as he worked the cock in his mouth. 

He'd been watched by guys before; most of them found it a turn-on, after all. But never had he been watched with what amounted to _awe_. It was cock-sucking; not tightrope-walking--and while Kisa felt he had quite a knack for it, a keen understanding of where most guys liked to be sucked and licked and laved and flicked and had a flexible gag reflex coupled with a genuine enjoyment of bringing men to their knees on his _own_ knees, he didn't suppose he was all that terribly special, and certainly not memorable. Hardly something to be studied as Yukina was doing. 

He swirled his tongue just at the tip, releasing Yukina with a loud smack as he feverishly worked the shaft with his hand, applying pressure he just couldn't achieve with his mouth and pausing to watch the sensation and emotion flit over Yukina's features as he struggled not to come undone too quickly. The way his lip curled a bit when Kisa brushed his thumb over the crown set his own cock twitching in his pants--but there'd be time to take care of himself later. Just now…he wanted to enjoy this. 

Yukina's cock glistened red and hard in the low light of the hotel room, and when everything fell silent around them save for the soft _schlick_ ing of Kisa's lips, tongue, and hand flying over him, the faint muffled sounds of voices in the hallway--perhaps other mangaka making their way to their rooms for the night--drifted through the walls, lending a sense of urgency and adrenaline to the whole affair.

He hoped Yukina wasn't noisy when he came.

Perhaps Yukina held similar worries, for he clenched his stomach muscles to haul himself forward, practically resting his arms on top of Kisa's arched back as he struggled to rein in his needy huffs and whimpers that he now delivered into the crisp starched jacket Kisa hadn't yet removed. He wondered in the back of his mind what they'd look like if someone were to walk in right now--Kisa dressed to the nines still, on sore knees and sorer thighs at the edge of a queen-size mattress with his lips wrapped around the impressive erection of up-and-coming promising male mangaka Yukina Kou who was warning him in breathy apology to _stop, please, I'm almost, Kisa-san, please, I can't--_

He slid his fingers down the shaft in a tight o-ring one last time, brushing his fingertips lightly over the sensitive indentation of skin just beneath the shaft as he delivered sharp suction at the tip, coaxing Yukina's orgasm to life and ignoring the way Yukina seized up all at once, muffling his cry in Kisa's jacket as his hips shuddered with release. 

Kisa braced himself at the warm spurt of semen in his mouth, swallowing what he could manage in one gulp and letting the rest pool on his tongue as he waited patiently for Yukina to finish, only then pulling off his cock with a soft _pop_ of release and swallowing the remainder with a fresh gulp of air. He wasn't sure if he'd intended to swallow or not--but Yukina's insistence on practically suffocating him with apologies and warnings had pretty much deprived him of any other choice.

Still, the way the guy had kind of gone limp and lifeless, slumped to his side on the bed and breathing slowly and deeply as he stared ahead at nothing, it kind of made it worth it--most of the guys he hooked up with liked to try and seem larger than life, all smirks and knowing smiles and lifted brows oozing with confidence. Yukina oozed confidence too, just…it was different with him. Confidence not just for confidence's sake but grounded in well-cultivated self-assurance, drawing just shy of cocky but never overstepping its bounds. To be shown so unabashedly how well-received Kisa's cock-sucking skills were by someone so overtly _honest_ in everything he did…sent a little thrill of pride snaking up his spine. 

Kisa wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, checking to be sure he hadn't gotten sloppy, and suddenly grew aware of Yukina's gaze on him again, flicking his focus off to the side. "Bet you're wishing you'd let me do that at Ryuu-san's the other night now."

A tired smile tugged at Yukina's lips, and he slowly blinked his eyes a few times as he silently settled back to earth from the clouds he'd been drifting on in the wake of his orgasm. "I…wasn't expecting that to be so…" Kisa waited, brows lifted, while Yukina searched for words, eventually settling for a short nod more to himself than anyone else. "I quite liked that."

Kisa snorted, rolling his eyes, and drawled, "Eloquent as always, Yukina-sensei," before reaching for the buttons on his vest with one hand and tugging at his tie with the other. At Yukina's unabashed staring, he shrugged off his vest and jacket in one maneuver, warning, "But I hope you don't think that's the end." He jerked his chin forward, indicating his still-buttoned dress shirt. "You should do the same."

Yukina glanced down, hesitantly patting down his chest as he realized he was still mostly clothed from the waist up, and he began feverishly attempting to remove his tie, dress shirt, and undershirt while Kisa lazily stripped down. It was rather comical to watch, and Kisa couldn't help comparing it to previous encounters which tended to be slow, sensual affairs punctuated with bouts of harried, hurried fucking, both parties trying to prove their superiority in bed to the other. With Yukina…he just seemed thrilled to be here, with Kisa, doing _anything_. Clothed or otherwise.

Stripping his undershirt off as he shimmied out of his slacks and briefs, though, Kisa frowned to himself--he'd shown uncharacteristic lack of forethought when he'd swallowed, and given that this was a _legitimate_ hotel room and not his own apartment or a love hotel, his choices for lubricant and prophylactics were decidedly limited. 

"Kisa-san?" Yukina called hesitantly as Kisa shuffled over to the pile of clothing he'd just divested himself of, rifling through his pants until he located the right pocket. "What're you…?"

"Just the necessities--" He glanced up, catching Yukina's eye, "--unless you've got some…?" As expected, Yukina paled and shook his head firmly, and Kisa snorted--they were really going to have to work on that. He drew up long and lean, foil packaging nestled snugly between his fingers, and tutted softly. "I'm shocked; you came to a party like this, looking like you do, and you weren't prepared to _get_ any?"

Yukina settled back onto the bed, scooting back a few paces as he struggled to explain himself. "Just--I didn't think we'd…I mean, I don't have any desire to…just, if I'd thought…and even then, I would never have presumed…" he fumbled, and at length, Kisa took pity on him, shaking his head.

"I guess I can waste some of my stock on you, then." He tossed the condom across the bed, where it landed with a soft _slap_ against Yukina's smooth stomach. "Should fit you."

Yukina palmed the package hesitantly, glancing up suspiciously. "You…carry this around with you?"

And while part of him felt guilty at the implication, most of Kisa just shrugged it off; Ryuu-san probably hadn't spared any of the gory details in hashing out his love life for Yukina, after all. "Better than not having one on me, I figure."

He ripped open the tiny foil packet of lubricant he'd also pulled out and squeezed a dollop into his still-sticky palm, hissing softly, before tossing it Yukina's way as well. "And don't be stingy with that stuff." Yukina flailed to catch it, nearly spilling the contents before making use of them, but managed to save the packet in the end, glancing worriedly back and forth between the condom and lubricant as if he'd never seen either before in his life. This would be interesting to watch.

He climbed slowly onto the bed, balancing on his knees as he shuffled closer to Yukina, and jerked his head at the packages. "Unless you were hoping for the other way around…?" It was entirely too easy to make Yukina pale in surprise, his face mottled patches of flushed desire and white shock, and Kisa waved him off with an inelegant snort. "God you're ridiculous; put the damn thing on or you're not getting any."

Yukina opened his mouth to protest, but cut himself off--and Kisa was a little disappointed, for he truly would've liked to have heard just _what_ he objected to. While Yukina struggled to tear open the packaging without spilling the lubricant packet, Kisa concentrated on his own preparations, arching his back and settling down further to spread his legs beneath him as he reached around and slathered on the oil. Most of his partners liked to do this part themselves--he supposed it was the next best thing to having their cock inside him, and that always came next, after all--but he not only didn't quite trust Yukina to be thorough enough, he figured this entire experience was probably going to be traumatizing enough as it was, no need to make things worse by asking him to shove his fingers up someone's ass.

His shoulders hunched forward as he worked to stretch himself--it'd been a while since he'd had to do this on his own, and his muscles were starting to ache from the awkward stretching and straining. Still, better to endure a cramp in his obliques now than face worse pain later in the event Yukina got a little overeager (always a possibility with that guy; Kisa very much did not want this to become the sexual equivalent of Yukina barreling through three chapters' worth of storyboarding). He controlled his breathing, forcing his exhalations out long and steady followed by staggering inhalations, measured and rhythmic, calming even, keeping in time with his own motions to stretch himself.

His lids fluttered open, and from under hooded lashes he watched Yukina watching him--without Kisa noticing, he'd managed to sheath himself and judiciously apply lubricant over his cock, which he was now slowly working once more into a handsome erection, his broad grip tightened into a fist he ran up and down his shaft in time with Kisa's own searching strokes. Biting his lip to keep back a whimper at the sight--shit, was this what he'd looked like when he'd jerked off thinking about Kisa, as he'd professed?--Kisa shuffled forward, awkwardly maneuvering himself over Yukina's long legs taking up most of the bed, until he'd settled just over his crotch, leaning forward until their noses nearly brushed but not quite near enough to kiss.

Wordlessly, keeping their eyes locked and refusing to let Yukina peek down and gawk like before, he withdrew his fingers and groped about blindly until they brushed over the head of Yukina's cock, swatting away Yukina's own fingers to guide the tip upward as he settled more surely over it, executing a few slow mock thrusts to drum up interest, pleasure clearly evident on Yukina's features. The desperate way he mouthed silent pleas, begging Kisa for a thousand things at once, spurred Kisa on, and he slid their lips together, hard and rough but slow as syrup--just as he lowered himself onto Yukina's waiting cock.

It was tight--but not unbearable, and Kisa really only had himself to blame, but he chalked it up to being distracted by Yukina's general air, made only more irresistible by the way he'd been jerking himself off. He forced any grunts or moans into Yukina's mouth, transforming the pain alchemically into passion and desire flushed from his system through their kiss. He could feel Yukina tensing and trembling beneath him, knew the guy must've been fighting everything within him urging him to thrust and shove and press, and this knowledge thrilled Kisa so that he swallowed through and forced himself down as far as he could go, gasping audibly at the sudden sensation of fullness, stretching, dull pain burning sharply before fading away to a muted throbbing that was quickly sloughed off in the wake of Yukina scrambling to stuff a hand between them to find Kisa's half-limp cock. 

"Oh-- _shit_ ," he cursed, the first comprehensible thing out of his mouth in what felt like ages, and he juddered against Yukina, fingers scrabbling over his chest and shoulders and thighs quaking with nerves as he lifted up again to thrust shallowly into Yukina's grip. He rearranged his arms after a moment's breath, Yukina's fingers warm and still around him; he could feel the rough calluses softly brushing over him, less irritating with the lubricant still clinging to his fingers. 

Tightening his arms around Yukina's neck, he tilted his head to the side to rest his face in the crook where neck met shoulder and forced power into his thighs to lift up further, letting Yukina slide almost fully out before he grit his teeth and slowly slid back down again, repeating the action at a slightly quicker clip on a third run before releasing a long breath and smiling to himself.

He eased back, brushing the hair from his eyes and cocking a half-grin at Yukina when he caught his eye as he stretched up tall onto his knees again, supporting himself solely on his own weight and knowing full well what he looked like just right now. He could have teased Yukina, who was still gaping stupidly, eyes now darting from where they were joined up over Kisa's sweat-glistening chest to his lips and eyes and back down again, like it was too much to take in at once, far too much to take in while he was trying his level best not to embarrass himself by coming too quickly. 

Instead, he kept silent save for a steady stream of huffs and gasps and little moans he probably could've bit back but chose to let out anyway--Yukina wasn't complaining, especially not when Kisa arched his back to take some of the strain off his hips and began to bounce at a canter, letting himself get lost in the sensation and forcing all stress and worry to the back of his mind--it just needed to be them right now, sweat and sex and semen and _Yukina_ , this hard-working person who poured as much effort into his work as into pursuing Kisa's affections, who had no business being infatuated with someone like Kisa but who refused to be turned away or talked out of it, who was overwhelmed by the smallest things and took the larger ones in stride without blinking. Someone who wanted to love Kisa, and to teach him how to love back, not because fair was fair but because he wanted Kisa to understand how fulfilling it was to have someone he could pour himself into.

"I think…I do…" he huffed softly as he brought one hand up to brush along the slender sweep of Yukina's jaw before pressing his palm there, breath coming in sharp staccato as he bounced. "Kinda love you…I mean," he clarified, grin turning into a pleasure-tinged grimace when he shifted and caught that angle, and his fingers dug into whatever skin they could find, leaving little half-moon shapes that probably wouldn't fade until morning.

He could hear Yukina's breath catch, but then that was to be expected given that the guy had to be close--Kisa was going all out here and was about past the point of being impressed. But then he felt his biceps gripped firmly as he was stilled in his efforts, squawking a shocked protest and glancing around to realize that Yukina had shifted his legs underneath himself to give leverage enough to topple Kisa onto his back, where he flopped gracelessly into a heap with Yukina's cock still deep within him and Yukina himself straddling him with both arms, muscles trembling with effort.

"T--tell me what to do please, Kisa-san…"

Kisa's gaze flicked back and forth from his crotch to Yukina's chest hovering over him to Yukina's flushed, desperate expression, brows drawn and eyes pleading. "I--what? What are you…" He struggled weakly, trying to thrust his hips, but Yukina pressed in tight, setting Kisa to gasping and scrambling upright where he could only grab on tight to the wall of muscle above him. " _Fuck_ , warn a guy before…" He took in a lungful of air, and then another. "What the hell, why did we stop…" He meant to sound irritated--and he was--but it probably came out more like a whine, because he'd finally gotten his rhythm, and with a little attention and effort, he would've been well on his way to a spectacular orgasm of his own by now.

Yukina repositioned himself, awkwardly using one hand for balance and the other to ease Kisa's legs into that dead fish position so many of his partners seemed to prefer. This just figured--and his disappointment seemed to register on his face, for Yukina frowned, "I'm sorry… I just…"

Kisa blew a clump of hair from his eyes in irritation. "Just _what_? We were just getting going…"

"I just wanted to…umm…" he trailed off, swallowing thickly, and as if in explanation, he gave a shallow roll to his hips, pushing Kisa up further on the bed and sending his breath catching in his throat at the sensation. He gasped desperately and groped for purchase against Yukina's skin, catching his eye and chagrined expression. "You just looked _so_ …" Yukina leaned down and pressed his face against Kisa's neck, breathing in deeply and releasing a soft, slow exhale across his flushed skin, whispering roughly into his flesh, "Tell me what to do, Kisa-san."

Kisa struggled for words, groping for a point of focus in the wake of so much sensation and pleasure, and finally managed a harsh rasping, "You obviously _know_ what to do, idiot."

And now Yukina was pressed so close, chests brushing with each inhalation, he could _feel_ the chuckle rumbling through his chest. "But I'm so good at taking direction from you, Kisa-san…" Soft pressure just beneath his ear, then the cool chill of air rushing over the kiss mark. "What should I do, Kisa-san…?"

Kisa huffed in feigned irritation and hooked his arms snugly under Yukina's, palms splayed flat across his broad back. "Don't make me regret wasting a condom on you--that's what." He gave a little jerk to his hips, tightening his grip for leverage, and added breathily, "Do whatever you wanted to when you jerked off thinking about me."

Yukina needed no more encouragement--he snapped his hips and angled his knees for a comfortable angle, pulling out long like Kisa had done before slipping forward again and pressing Kisa into the mattress. Not rough or uncaring, just intense and impassioned and _alive_ , everything in Yukina's world boiling down to this room, this bed, this space between them full of panting and moaning and fervent pleas for _harder faster fuck come on_ , all pretense of teasing instruction falling away but still heeded to a T as Yukina angled and stroked and thrust just _so_. All Kisa had to do was whine _no just to the right--the right, there there yes_ and it coalesced into action, Yukina as moldable and manageable under the thrall of passion as hunched over a drafting table or sipping a lukewarm latte at Tully's. 

He could feel his orgasm coiling like a tight spring at the base of his cock, just behind his balls, ready to explode, and before he could even offer instruction, Yukina stepped up the clip with harsh staccato punishing thrusts meant to coax Kisa into climax with a barrage of sensation, and before he could beg Yukina _fuck wait wait--I can't--I can't--_ when sweat and lubricant-slick fingers jerked at his cock teasingly, he arched his back up off the bed and twisted his head to the side, eyes clenched shut as his release rocked through him and spurted up in long white ribbons across his belly.

While he lay still trembling and on the knife-edge of release, Yukina executed a few more deep, driving thrusts, nearly pushing Kisa to the edge of the bed, before he pressed his face into Kisa's neck and gasped loudly, voice muffled by flesh and fabric as he spilled himself. His hips juddered several smaller, shallow thrusts until he'd been drained, leaving him to slump back to the mattress, half-on, half-off Kisa's body.

The room felt too quiet now, the air too empty and expansive, and Kisa closed his eyes for a moment to let everything reduce down to mere thought and sound, slow deep breathing and contented inhalations and exhalations, the way the air sounded when it brushed over lips contorted into relieved grins.

His thighs ached, his knees were sore, his ass would mount a protest in the next few hours, his throat was dry and raw, and he was _starving_ now. There was semen caking his stomach, greasy lubricant basting his crotch and ass, and they were both soaked in sweat and probably smelled rather fragrant, and not in a good way.

But Yukina's bulk on top of him and beside him, the comfortable weight of his softening cock against Kisa's thigh as it slid free, the casual way he'd looped their arms together to keep them joined, and the innocent manner in which he'd now buried his face in Kisa's shoulder, breathing going soft and even and worrying Kisa that the guy was in very real danger of just falling asleep like this…made Kisa forget that he hated cuddling or any other post-coital frivolities that didn't involve a hot shower and a fresh change of clothes, and instead he tightened his arms where they crooked under Yukina's, letting the soft drone of the hotel settling in for the evening lull him to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

"…sa-san…"

Kisa groaned weakly and turned over onto his stomach, burying his face in a pillow that smelled far too freshly laundered to be his own and blindly groping for his cell phone on his nightstand to turn off the alarm.

" _Kisa_ -san."

He muffled a curse into the pillow and groggily lifted his head to locate the damned cell phone, squinting at the bright light filtering in through gauze curtains that he sure as hell didn't remember decorating his tiny apartment with--and when a hand gently landed on his shoulder, he twisted around abruptly and raised an arm to bat it away. "--the _fuck_ Yukina, shit." He brushed his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes and shaking his head sharply to rattle everything back into place. "…Ugh…"

The bed dipped as Yukina settled at the edge, shirtless with a towel draped around his neck and his locks dark with water from the shower he'd apparently just stepped out of. "And you didn't even drink last night," he reminded, voice dripping with amusement, and Kisa managed to cut him a glare as he struggled to rearrange the events of the previous evening in his mind.

The Marukawa Newcomers' Welcome gig, Yukina making a spectacle of himself with the other authors, Kisa dragging him away and unfairly bitching him out for doing exactly what Kisa had asked him to do, a lot of talking that must have gone pretty well because while he couldn't recall the exact details of what they'd discussed, it'd segued into some rather enthusiastically mutually consensual sex, and Kisa liked to think he wouldn't have taken that dive with Yukina if he hadn't been confident they'd both make it back to the surface in one piece.

_Liked to think_ being the operative phrase, here.

He grimaced and licked his lips--his mouth tasted awful, more than just morning breath, and everything south of his nose ached in some manner or another. He massaged his jaw and cleared his throat in an attempt to slough off some of the morning roughness. "What time is it?"

"Nearly 8:30; I believe check-out's at 10?" Kisa nodded slowly after a moment's consideration as he struggled to recall the details Takano-san had delivered at the briefing meeting a few days prior. "Would you like to shower before breakfast?"

"Huh?" He rubbed insistently at his eyes to blink away the last remnants of sleep still clinging, finally bringing the room into proper focus. "Breakfast?"

Yukina shifted off of the bed and shuffled over to the overnight bag he'd brought along for the stay, squatting as he rifled through it--hopefully for a shirt, because that was just _distracting_ this early in the morning. "Yes; I've ordered room service. I figured if the room's comped, I can at least afford to treat you to a proper breakfast while we're here." He cast a glance over his shoulder, lifting a brow expectantly. "Or are you going to run off on me?"

"Run off…?" He shook his head, still trying to get a proper grip on the situation, before Yukina's casually delivered offer finally took root. "Wait--room service?"

A nod--and thank god, Yukina was pulling on a gray wife beater with a long-sleeved tee draped over the back of the chair at the desk. "I'm afraid it's mostly western--it was all they had on hand on short notice this late in the morning. I asked for a spread, though, so there should be something to…Kisa-san?"

But Kisa was already out of bed, buck naked and casting about for the clothes he'd shucked in his haste the previous evening--fuck, he was going to be wearing his _suit_ out of here, wasn't he? At least he could head straight home and change into something--no, no _shower_ first; the last thing he needed was the room-service guy knocking on the door while his _everything_ was flopping around for all to see. Nudity was acceptable in the bath and in the bed--anywhere else? It was only adrenaline and fear of discovery that had him darting about in his birthday suit rather than a _real_ one in front of Yukina. 

He waved off Yukina's concern as he darted into the bathroom, opting to locate his clothes later, and hopped into the shower. Nice and hot, something to soothe all the aches and pains of muscles he hadn't exercised in a while--and despite the rush and wave of memory and emotion washing over him, he allowed himself the small, secret admission that he always _liked_ how sore he felt; it meant he'd enjoyed himself without much shit-giving for how he'd feel in the morning.

Now, standing here under a warm spray that was washing away the last remnants of a culmination months in the making, with only a thin door separating him from Yukina, he was finally sufficiently awake to start taking stock of what they'd done--what he'd allowed to happen.

He couldn't…really remember now, what Yukina had said that had pushed him over the edge, what had brought him back around, what had finally _done it_ , only that the guy had poured upon him promises to support and learn and listen and just wanted to _be_ with Kisa, because Kisa made him want to try even harder--and what was the point of life without a goal or three? And sure, Kisa could have sat on the sidelines watching Yukina go off and be this great mangaka anyone could see he was _going_ to be some day, eventually, but…why not try and get there together? Why settle for just 'editor' when that didn't have to be everything he was?

He didn't love Yukina--he didn't _know_ Yukina nearly enough to love him, for one, and for another--he hadn't ever really loved _anyone_ , so it was little surprise he didn't love Yukina. But he liked Yukina, liked him a lot; liked how he kissed, liked how eager he was--in everything he did--liked how he strove to be the best and relied on Kisa to direct him when he was off-course. He trusted Kisa, wholeheartedly, and Kisa…liked that sense of importance from someone whose talent he respected. Yukina made him feel…like _someone_.

He swallowed thickly and tilted his head back, letting the water sluice away the soapy lather he'd worked up.

No…he definitely didn't love Yukina: surely he'd _know_ if he were in love with someone, right? But Yukina didn't seem deterred by this in the least; quite the contrary, he'd been babbling something about _maybe you love me a little_ and _maybe if I help you not screw this up, you can love me a lot_ \--which, not screwing this up was a tall order in and of itself, so if Yukina managed to pull that off, Kisa would likely have no choice _but_ to love him. How was it possible not to love someone who pulled off the unimaginable, all for _you_?

Wiping a hand over his face, he reached forward with the other and turned off the shower with a flick of his wrist, tugging down a fluffy white towel from over the commode as he stepped out of the tub. Patting himself down, he strained to hear into the bedroom--he didn't want to toddle out in nothing more than a towel if the attendant was still milling about with their breakfast, but after a surreptitious peep outside, he deemed it safe enough and stepped back into their room with his towel wrapped snugly about his waist. Now--where the hell had he dropped his pants?

"Ah--just in time!"

"Eh?" Kisa poked his head up from where he'd been kneeling beside the bed, straining to see if perhaps they'd been kicked underneath in their fervor.

Yukina stepped back into the bedroom proper from the little cul-de-sac by the entrance where a mini-fridge had been stowed, waving an orange in each hand. "The food's arrived."

"Oh--" Kisa only just now noticed the tray that had been wheeled in during his shower, piled high with several gleaming cloches. Forgetting his search for his underwear for a moment, he stood shakily and edged closer, giving an experimental sniff--pastry, and something fruity. His stomach burbled its anticipation, and he flushed, mentally instructing himself to just be patient. Pants first--then breakfast.

"I've folded your clothes and placed them on the chair just there--" Kisa whirled around, casting about to see just where Yukina was pointing, "--though I'm afraid your suit jacket and dress-shirt were quite rumpled; I hung them in the closet, but--"

"It's fine," Kisa assured him distractedly, waving off his concern as he made his way hastily to the other side of the room, where he could now spot his pants neatly draped over the back of a chair and his undershirt and boxers folded into a square on the seat with his tie hanging from the arm. Relief flooded through him as he cast a glance over one shoulder--satisfied to see Yukina busy removing the cloches and inspecting their breakfast--and dropped the towel, quickly toeing on his boxers and slipping into his undershirt. It felt good to be decently clothed again--and now his stomach was reminding him that since his modesty had been restored, he needed to go about satisfying his appetite as well.

Leaving the pants for later, he gingerly made his way back over to the edge of the bed, which Yukina had settled onto as a bench while he scooped what looked like yogurt into a small bowl, glancing up to meet Kisa's eye with a dazzling smile. "Hungry?"

"Starved," Kisa admitted eagerly, and slid onto the mattress beside him, reaching greedily for the extra silverware and flatware. It was an impressive spread, and Kisa showed no mercy as he piled his plate high with pastries and eggs and sausage, slathering on fruit preserves and condiments willy-nilly. He'd probably hate himself within the hour for indulging in such a heavy meal, but he hadn't been looking forward to another brunch of watered-down miso soup and day-old rice he'd left in his fridge. Plus--it seemed to make Yukina feel like he'd accomplished something, so there was that too.

They settled into a comfortable silence of clinking dishware and the sounds of a meal being enjoyed, with little conversation beyond _pass me that_ and _would you like some more of this?_ The ostensible domesticity of it would probably have made Kisa gag if they'd been at a proper table and if either of them had had a hand in preparing the meal, but as it was, he could handle this.

"…Did you sleep well?"

Kisa froze, the last bite of some fruity yogurt concoction waiting to be scooped onto his spoon, and he swallowed thickly, gaze flicking to the side as he tried to catch Yukina out of the corner of his eye--though he could feel him watching. Licking his lips, he allowed, "I've had worse nights." And if that didn't sound like a comment on everything they'd done _but_ sleep, he didn't know what did--so he hastily added with a shaky laugh, "The mattress was a little soft; thought I was gonna drown in it."

Yukina nodded and chuckled softly, falling silent as he took a drink, and Kisa took the opportunity to stuff the last bite of yogurt into his mouth to stifle further attempts at conversation. He liked the guy, and they'd had fun--but he needed more than five minutes alone in the shower to take stock of what he'd just committed himself to, needed--

"It was better than I imagined."

Kisa didn't know if it was all that possible to choke on blueberry yogurt, but he managed to, and he coughed several times, fighting the threatening rise of bile in his throat. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he twisted to take in Yukina straight on, brows furrowed suspiciously. "Th…the suite?"

"The sex."

Kisa felt his face go white, a sickening wave of light-headedness washing over him, and he suddenly wished he hadn't eaten a whole half of the omelet they'd ordered. "That's… This isn't really…" he started dumbly, glancing around as if worried they might be overheard, but Yukina seemed oblivious. As usual. More than aware that he was only fanning the flames by even continuing the line of conversation, Kisa grumbled while he waited for his heart to calm its frenetic pace, "What--you expected it to _suck_?"

"Quite the contrary." A shy smile curled at Yukina's lips as he stirred the coffee he'd poured for himself. "But even so."

A flush flooded Kisa's pale cheeks at this--which was ridiculous; guys complimented him on what a great lay he was all the time, and even without their flattery, Kisa knew he was pretty awesome in bed. Why it should mean more, should _affect_ him more coming from Yukina was a mystery, so he simply responded with, "And I suppose you've slept with enough guys to know when sex does and doesn't suck with one?"

The look Yukina gave him--halfway between pained and confused--made him immediately contrite, and he reprimanded himself for the instinctive response--any time he was cornered, he always seemed to retreat back into his default mode of self-deprecation. He wanted to be amazing at something, but he couldn't handle a fucking compliment from anyone whose opinion he cared about; that just _figured_. Reflexively, he apologized, "Sorry, I just..."

"Are you, really?"

"Huh?"

" _Sorry_." Kisa's brows knit, not quite following what he was asking, and Yukina clarified at length, eyes flicking back up the bed, "About…"

Ah _shit_ , he didn't want to have this discussion _now_ \--and maybe this was what Yukina had meant earlier by _running off_. He needed to just be alone for a while, to have a moment where Yukina wasn't hovering over him, pressing him for attention even without realizing it, a moment to himself where he could organize his thoughts and figure out how he was supposed to make this work, and not just dive into _are you sure we did the right thing?_ less than 12 hours after it _happened_.

He huffed softly, pursing his lips, and scratched at his temple. "…Yukina, I really don't want to--"

"Please," Yukina pressed softly, and the expression he fixed Kisa with was…shit, _worried_ , almost desperate even--this wasn't simple neediness or curiosity, this was…something that was really bugging Yukina, and guilt shuddered through Kisa. He'd never been particularly _good_ at dealing with The Morning After, but generally his partners hadn't really harassed him about it--or if they had, Kisa had just deleted their contact information and that had been that. 

Kisa glanced around, desperate for some distraction, something to keep him from having to look at that _face_ , but in short order he gave up, cursed softly, and gripped Yukina by the jaw, thumbs brushing up and over his cheekbones, and jerked him forward to press a soft, insistent kiss to his lips--he wasn't so good with words, but he was good with bodily impressing his feelings upon someone, so this was really his only option. At least, that was how he justified it to himself.

It was easier to just do this, press their lips together and let him know through gentle pressure that he may not be entirely sure this was the best idea but he'd committed himself to this, reassured with the faint swipe of his tongue that no he didn't regret it, wasn't sorry for what he'd done, reminded with the subtle drop of his jaw to pull Yukina's lower lip between his own with soft suction that he'd been a willing participant and _fine, yes_ \--it'd been better than he'd expected it to be as well.

He drew back at length, cutting himself off before he reached the point where he wouldn't _want_ to draw back, and gave Yukina a gentle slap on the cheek to bring his attention back, locking their gazes to be sure he was heard loud and clear: "I don't want to talk about it right now. Okay?"

A single, subtle nod, then entirely too innocently, "…Can we…keep not talking about it?" and before Kisa could so much as furrow his brows in confusion, long, lithe fingers brushed over the thin cotton material of his boxers, cupping insistently.

Kisa immediately snapped a hand down, grip tight about Yukina's wrist, and everything froze for a moment as Yukina waited for judgment to pass. Kisa's muscles trembled electrically, nerve endings on edge--and it was hard to tell if this was better or worse than talking about it. They didn't have time, they _really_ shouldn't do anything more before hashing out what this was, the remains of their breakfast were quickly chilling on the dinner cart, and Yukina wouldn't stop _looking_ at him with this expression of mixed innocent patience and desperate curiosity--Kisa couldn't handle that kind of pressure, being put on the spot like this, when he had to make a decision and make it now and maybe it would be not just a wrong one but _the_ wrong one because he hadn't had time to think this through. His mouth fluttered open and shut a few times, and he wrenched his gaze away, looking at but not seeing the rumpled bedsheets, pillows with head indentations, a little trashcan that, if he looked inside of it, would evidence their evening together. Would still do so even if he _didn't_ look. No matter what he did, it wasn't going away.

He snorted softly to himself and shook his head in disbelief before relaxing his grip and sharply tugging Yukina's hand back down, lacing their fingers together as he cupped Yukina's palm over his crotch. "I love not talking about stuff with you."

He wasn't hard--something he practically congratulated himself on achieving in Yukina's presence--but Yukina didn't seem deterred in the least, and at Kisa's tacit permission, he began to softly massage the outline of Kisa's cock, swiping a finger every now and then to trace the balls that hung just at the base, comfortable cushioned against the mattress and happy to entertain attentions. Kisa shifted on the bed, angling himself to reach between Yukina's haphazardly spread legs and address the markedly less confusing zip on the pants he'd donned today. Yukina must have been thinking something along the same lines, for he chuckled beneath his breath and murmured, "I'll try to be more considerate in my clothing choices in the future."

"Like trying to get at the crown jewels..." he muttered petulantly and stuffed his hand abruptly beneath the elastic hem of Yukina's underwear, dragging his cock up and out. "And this is my only pair of underwear, you know--if you're gonna do anything, get on with it. I don't wanna mess my pants."

Yukina planted a soft series of kisses along Kisa's jaw in response and nimbly dipped his fingers under the hem to tug out Kisa's cock. He seized up at the contact, trying not to thrust into the loose channel Yukina had made--the difference between a good handjob and irritating yanking on your cock was a simple matter of lubrication, and he wasn't nearly turned on enough just yet that he could do without at least some saliva.

Kisa pulled back just enough that Yukina could mark him before reaching down with his free hand to grip Yukina by the wrist and tug him up off his cock, keeping their gazes locked before twisting to reach his palm, pink tongue darting out as he laved a strip of saliva from wrist on up to fingertips, dallying at the end as he wrapped his lips around the index and middle as far as he could go. The soft sheen of sweat on his skin was salty but not overpowering, and Kisa's lips curled up when Yukina's breath caught in his throat when he finally released, gently guiding Yukina back to working his cock. 

Unbidden, Yukina swallowed thickly and reached down between his legs to wrap his fingers loosely around Kisa's own wrist. Kisa watched warily as Yukina mirrored his action, looking entirely too practiced and composed for what should've been something frantic and hurried, and Kisa felt a twinge of jealousy spark within him--if nothing else, he wanted to get Yukina off first. _Bad_.

Their strokes came more smoothly now, and Kisa arched and spread his legs wider in his awkward stance to grant Yukina freer access. He could jerk a guy off blindfolded; what he was most concerned with just at the moment was getting _himself_ off. Yukina seemed to be of the same mind, though, and while he kept his strokes about Kisa slow and steady and tantalizing, never faltering or missing a beat, his shoulders were hunched and gaze locked on himself as Kisa worked him. 

In short order, they'd worked one another up to handsome stiff erections straining in their palms, and Kisa smiled to himself, pleased with his handiwork. His mood was infectious, and Yukina soon mirrored his expression, gaze flicking back and forth between his own cock and Kisa's face, as if to say _do you see what you're doing to me?_ And of course Kisa saw--he wouldn't have missed it for the world; there was nothing better than honest, open appreciation for a job well done, and Yukina's unabashed praise and approval of everything Kisa touched (at the moment, quite literally) was like a drug that Kisa knew he shouldn't get attached to but couldn't help coming back to for a fix.

He shifted up onto his knees so Yukina didn't have to hunch so, cocking his head to the side and slipping his lips over Yukina's as he thrust a tongue inside, rolling his hips along the loose channel Yukina's fingers made and at the same time giving a sharp tug of his own clenched fist, one smooth mechanical full-body motion that kicked the session into overdrive. Yukina gasped into his mouth, moaning something unintelligible that could've been Kisa's name or a curse or some manner of endearment he'd probably had trained into him by partners before.

Kisa let his fingers slip up to the tip, circling the crown with delicate touches before sliding back down the shaft in a tighter ring, and Yukina bucked forward, nearly shoving Kisa down onto the bed. He pulled back away from the kiss abruptly and whispered a frantic apology into the space between them, seemingly mortified, and somehow this just endeared him all the more to Kisa, who slid his arm up and around Yukina's neck, cradling his nape and drawing circles in the sensitive skin at the base of his skull while he chuckled roughly, "Now who's apologizing for stuff he shouldn't be sorry for?" He pressed a line of light kisses along Yukina's jaw, up to just below his ear, where he suckled hard enough that there'd probably be a mark--but Yukina didn't object, and he could always flip his collar up. 

Yukina hissed at the attention, loosening his grip further to fly over Kisa's cock, slick and smooth with saliva and precum now, and Kisa imagined maybe this was how Yukina got himself off, just frantically tugging as quickly as possible until he exploded, no concern for the subtle twists and snaps of a wrist, pressure points and gentle firmness--so much he could _teach_ , and maybe Yukina was on to something here, practically begging Kisa to take him under his wing.

"Easy, easy…" he chided softly, giving a light squeeze at the base and stilling his attentions as he waited for Yukina to repeat them with Kisa's own cock--achieved only a moment later, and Kisa rewarded him with a kiss along his jugular, laving a strip of saliva back up and over the swell of his jaw until he captured his lips again and renewed his strokes with purpose.

They were on the clock, the minutes ticking down until they needed to be presentable and standing in line in the lobby with bags in hand, not with fingers wrapped around warm, heavy shafts and skin slick with sweat and saliva when they could neither one of them spare a moment for another shower this late in the morning. He expressed his desperation in his strokes, in the juddering, jerky rolls of his hips, in the way he pressed every bit of himself he could manage into Yukina's chest, shoulders, neck, lips--and Yukina responded in kind, strokes accompanied now by cheeky tweaks at the base of Kisa's cock followed by immediate soothing on the upstroke with a twist at the crown before pressing back down again.

Kisa could feel his orgasm building--it always left him feeling kind of _accomplished_ , when he worked himself up (or was worked up) from a cold start all the way to climax, and Yukina was a blessedly quick learner, improvisation coming to him naturally. He angled himself to jut his hips further away and tilted Yukina's cock so that he'd spill right into Kisa's hand--lips quirking upward at the familiar sound of Yukina's frantic breathy apologies building in intensity and desperation. He could get used to those dulcet tones, he was realizing.

He said nothing more, just renewed his efforts and deepened their kiss to quiet Yukina--because as rewarding as his moans and whimpers were, it was as much fun shutting him up. Kisa had never been one to be a passive partner in bed, but Yukina inspired in him an urge to take the reins even more aggressively, and he allowed himself the brief, fleeting thought of what it might be like to press Yukina down onto the bed and sink into him with a slow, measured roll of his hips, to--

"Kisa-…san, _Kisa-sa_ \--!" 

His feverish fantasy was interrupted by the spurt of liquid across his palm, dribbling over his fingers and streaming down in thick, milky lines. Kisa watched with muted interest as Yukina's cock twitched in his hand, continuing to soothe with slow, controlled strokes, and when Yukina's attentions stuttered in the wake of his orgasm, Kisa supplemented them with his own thrusts, angling his hips to get the tightest grip, the slickest channel, and only moments later he was pressing his face into the crook of Yukina's shoulder, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as he spilled into and over Yukina's palm.

They sat wrapped about each other, limbs entangled, for several long moments--when a faint beeping roused their attentions, and Kisa cast about in annoyance, recognizing the shrill notification of a text message arriving. He cursed softly and attempted to untangle himself, one leg asleep and absolutely useless for walking around on. He slid off the bed and kept his free hand on Yukina's shoulder to steady himself as he tried to stand on wobbly jelly legs. He needed to tuck himself back into his underwear--flailing about like this was borderline humiliating--and wash up properly, but before he could do any of that, he needed control over his legs again.

Just as feeling was returning to his toes, though, he caught Yukina frowning out of the corner of his eye as he lifted his right hand--still caked in semen--to just under his nose, giving an experimental sniff and looking sorely like he was weighing what to do with it, and Kisa's expression twisted into one of horror when his jaw dropped open and his tongue darted out. "What the hell--don't _lick_ it!"

Yukina immediately let his hand drop back away, stiffening up straight and flushing in shame. "I--sorry--I wasn't sure…what the protocol was exactly…"

Kisa snorted, shifting from one foot to the other, relieved to have mobility once more. "There's no-- _protocol_. But trust me, it tastes horrible."

Yukina glanced down to his hand, brows furrowing. "… _You_ swallowed it, though. Before."

"I didn't exactly have much choice," Kisa reminded pointedly, sweeping past Yukina into the bathroom, and stifled another snort when Yukina scrambled off the bed to follow at his heels, loping across the room like a colt. " _Someone_ practically force-fed it to me." He quickly stuffed himself back into his boxers before reaching for the tap, shoving his hand under the spray as he worked up a generous lather.

Yukina balked at the doorway, penitent. "Shit I…I'm really sorry, it's just…I'm not used to…that kind of…"

Kisa beckoned him closer silently, casting about for a towel as he made room for Yukina to wash up. "I said it tastes horrible--didn't say I minded doing it," he clarified as he mopped his hands dry, then tossed the towel onto the counter beside Yukina and brushed past him back into the bedroom. A quick glance at his phone revealed a text message--Takano-san congratulating them all on an evening well-worked--and the time: fifteen minutes to go.

He cursed under his breath and pulled on his pants, hastily buttoning his shirt and casting about frantically for his socks before realizing they'd been tucked into his shoes by the door. Yukina appeared again a moment later, looking refreshed, and Kisa waved a hand to his bag sitting open on the floor beside the desk. "Get your crap together--they're probably gonna send someone up to kick us out in a few and I don't want to have to explain what the stains on the comforter are from." Yukina's gaze flicked back to where they'd just been sitting, and he blanched, freezing momentarily before kicking into gear.

The elevator ride down was quiet but remarkably _not_ as awkward as Kisa would have expected considering what they'd just done--or perhaps, he reasoned, that was precisely the reason the tension had eased. Kisa likely couldn't just wheedle a blow job or quickie out of Yukina whenever he was feeling anxious about their relationship, given, but he was grateful for the momentary reprieve.

Being as it was a Sunday, Kisa was at least in no particular rush to make it in to the office, and he let himself get lost in thought of how much better he'd feel once he had a proper bath at home and wasn't doing a virtual walk of shame in his clothes from the previous evening. His chest clenched when he considered that he ran the very real risk of bumping into other authors from the event, and instinctively sidled closer to Yukina as they waited in line to check out, keeping his head ducked and glancing around furtively.

"Kisa-san?"

"Just--shut up and don't say my name." The last thing he needed was this getting out at the office--even if no one _knew_ what they'd been up to, rumors would swirl, as they tended to at Marukawa.

Yukina warily glanced around, but did as he was instructed, and Kisa flipped up the collar on his suit jacket just in case while Yukina took care of checking out, starting when Yukina cupped a hand at his elbow to guide him towards the doors of the front lobby. "I really don't think there's anyone watching, Kisa-san…" he offered weakly, but Kisa just grunted and stalked out into the circular driveway, where two taxis idled, waiting to pick up guests. 

He turned to rake his gaze over Yukina, taking in the overnight bag one hand and hospitality bag Marukawa had provided him with hanging from the opposite shoulder. "You should take a taxi," he suggested, waving at the baggage. "You'll get eaten alive trying to take a train with all that."

Yukina ducked his head in response, perhaps only just now reflecting on how he would be making his way back to Nakano. As he shuffled forward, a door on the frontmost cab swung open, and Yukina let the hospitality bag slide from his shoulder. "Ah--" He twisted to catch Kisa's eye as he stuffed his bags into the cab. "Would you like to share? I'm sure it wouldn't be any trouble to--"

Kisa took a step back, raising his hands, and cut Yukina off before he tripped over his own invitation, "No, no no--no, I'll be fine on the train." He waved weakly to the driver in an attempt to relate his reluctance. "Just--you should get home and start sorting through the…stuff you got."

Yukina frowned, confused, and glanced at the hospitality bag. "…You mean from the Marukawa staff? Is there anything particularly interesting included?"

No. "Maybe?" He shrugged ambivalently. "You never know what Isaka-san's got stuffed in there. Could be something amazing." Yukina didn't seem convinced, but he let the matter drop regardless. 

"All right then--" He glanced back to be sure his bags were safely situated inside the vehicle, then flicked a quick check around their immediate vicinity--before ducking forward and soundly pressing his lips to Kisa's, fingers curled just at the base of his neck to steady him, and before Kisa could squawk in protest and shove him away to start reprimanding him, Yukina released him and took a few steps backward, bending practically in half as he folded himself up into the taxi. "Take care going home, please!" 

"Y--y-y--!" he started, voice quavering as he hastily wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his coat. "What the _hell_ \--!" But the taxi door slammed shut, and Yukina simply blithely waved his farewell as the car pulled away from the curb, leaving Kisa standing in front of the Teito Hotel in a dirty suit and with less than 2000 yen in his wallet.

It was barely 10:15, and god he needed a drink already. At this rate, he was going to need to be perpetually inebriated any time he spent more than five minutes in Yukina's presence. Oh yes, this relationship was going to work out just _swimmingly_.

He grumbled beneath his breath as he watched the taxi speed away, only daring to glance around to see just how many gazes he was going to have to avoid meeting after the car took a turn and disappeared from sight. Relieved to see they had largely gone unremarked--though that bellboy was definitely giving him a raised brow--he squinted and glanced around to get his bearings. The station was…on the east side of the hotel, if he remembered correctly. 

He took a moment to confirm his location via a map displayed alongside the building, when his phone buzzed a text arrival in his pocket. Probably Takano-san again, already planning meetings for Monday--no rest for the wicked, it seemed. Locating the nearest subway entrance, he dragged his feet toward exit A3 and slipped one hand into his pocket to pull out his phone, flipping the screen up and frowning as he waited impatiently for the text to load.

_/Could we meet for dinner to discuss my draft for the August issue? While I thoroughly enjoy 'not talking with you', of course, we should probably attend to the panels at some point./_

…Cheeky asshole. Kisa could practically see him gleefully skipping away with the inch Kisa had given him, fully intent on taking it out to a full mile. First the kiss in public in broad daylight, and now this? There would definitely need to be discussion, no matter how attractive the alternative was.

He hunched his shoulders and furiously punched out a reply of _/Fine./_ \--if Yukina didn't like it, he could shove it up his ass. He snapped the phone shut again and slipped it back into his pocket, adjusting the lapels on his coat as he took a turn into the A3 exit and stumbled down the stairs into the subway below.

_"Besides…I don't think we've anywhere left to go but up."_

Yukina had already been tending cocky and confident when he'd whispered those words against Kisa's skin, flushed with desire and anticipation, and as Kisa felt his phone buzz again insistently in his pocket, alerting him to a new text message, he grumbled under his breath sourly, "Then we've got one hell of a long road ahead of us..." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking through this long behemoth! I really enjoyed writing it and hope to write more for Yukina and Kisa eventually!


End file.
